Iarion drew his bow, nocking an arrow. “Come on. We’ve got to keep moving. We’ve to get to the Quenya. The lord and lady are holding the glade, but they can’t hold it forever.”
Barlo nodded, gripping his ax. Iarion led the way. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they found the enemy. Saviadro would have instructed the dark creatures to position themselves along the river between Iarion and his goal until he and his Forsworn could arrive. Although the Fallen One would be mounted on a drake, Iarion suspected the Sintadar would do everything they could to delay him and the Forsworn.
Sure enough, Iarion saw a goblin on the path ahead, waiting. It wasn’t alone. Iarion sighted and let his arrow fly. It sunk deep into the creature’s throat. Iarion already had his next arrow ready. This one pierced an ogre in the eye. He fired again and again. For each arrow, a creature fell dead.
He had gotten their attention now. A large group rushed toward them, roaring in outrage. Iarion, Barlo, and Sinstari ran to meet them. Iarion put his bow away and drew his knife as he ran. He fought as though possessed. Images of the dead Linadar were burned into his mind.
Soon he was covered in gore. The blood ran up to his elbows and spattered his face, getting into his eyes. Barlo and Sinstari didn’t hold back either, staying beside him every step he took closer to their goal.
As they carved their bloody path southward, Iarion could hear the rushing waters of the Rillin. They were close. His muscles burned with fatigue. He licked his stinging, split lip and tasted blood that wasn’t his. Barlo had a long gash on his cheek, and part of Sinstari’s ear was missing. Still, they fought on.
Only a few more creatures stood between Iarion and the river. He wasted no time getting them out of his way. With a slash to the throat, the last creature fell to the ground, its dark blood spurting everywhere.
Even though they had found a way through, there were still many dark creatures remaining. Iarion could hear more coming from the trees behind them. They had to hurry. If they didn’t make it across the river soon, they would be overwhelmed. Iarion looked back to make certain his friends were still with him before stepping into the water. It swirled around his ankles.
“Iarion,” a familiar voice called. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Iarion looked up. For the first time, he noticed a string of ships in the water, blocking the river. He had been so focused on the battle, he hadn’t seen them. They were Rasadar ships. He took in the sight, searching for the speaker. Silver and sapphire eyes met churning blue. Beside him, Barlo groaned.
It was Feoras.
– Chapter Fifty –
The Final Betrayal
Iarion, Barlo, and Sinstari stood at the edge of the swirling water, frozen in shock. Out of the corner of his eye, Iarion could see the remaining dark creatures closing in on them from behind. They were trapped. Some of the goblins began to laugh.
Iarion could not comprehend it. Not only was Feoras a Learnéd One, sworn to protect the Free Peoples of Lasniniar, but he was a close friend of the Rasadar. Where Numarin had held himself apart from the races, Feoras loved the Sea Elves as though they were his own children. How could he do such a thing and irrevocably seal their fate?
Saviadro’s promise of non-interference with the Rasadar might hold in the short term, but for the elves to live in a world where the Quenya was held hostage was a fate worse than death.
Feoras shook his head. “You should have tried to find your friends, Iarion. You cannot hope to beat Saviadro and his army on your own.”
Iarion ignored Feoras’s words and focused on the figure standing next to him. Iarion knew he recognized the ship. The elf standing with Feoras was its captain, Alfiabalas. His betrayal hit Iarion like a physical blow.
“You too, Alfiabalas?” Iarion called out in Elvish. The Rasadain’s blue-green eyes met his.
“Feoras and my lord and lady finally came to an agreement,” he said. “We hold the river now. We will suffer no intruders.”
Alfiabalas turned and raised his arm. A host of Rasadar appeared on the decks of the ships. He and Feoras had brought an entire army with them. They stood ready in their fish mail armor, with their barbed arrows nocked and aimed toward the shore.
“Alfiabalas, please!” Iarion tried once more to make the elf see reason. “You know the consequences of what you are about to do. You cannot do this!”
“I have my orders. I am doing what I must. There is nothing more to say.”
Iarion could feel the dark creatures behind them drawing closer, preparing to strike. His entire body trembled with exhaustion. Barlo and Sinstari were in no better shape. Still, Iarion gripped his knife, determined to go down fighting.
“Well, I guess this is it,” he said to Barlo.
“I take it you can’t persuade him to change his mind,” Barlo said while keeping his eyes on the dark creatures surrounding them. “I told you. You should have bedded the sisters. Ah well. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be taking some of these foul creatures with me. The cat still looks to have some fight left in him too. I only wish I could see Narilga and the children one last time.”
“I’m sorry, Barlo. I should never have dragged you into this mess, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“It’s been a real adventure, Iarion. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” The closest goblin stepped forward, knife in hand.
“Here we go,” Iarion whispered.
He turned to face the threat just as he saw Alfiabalas lower his arm to signal the Rasadar attack. Arrows flew through the air. Iarion ignored them, knowing there was nothing he could do. He only focused on the immediate threats surrounding him.
He was surprised when the goblin closest to him fell to its knees with an arrow in its throat. It belonged to one of the Sea Elf archers. An elf would never miss a shot like that at this range. Iarion hesitated. Around him, other dark creatures fell, slain by Rasadar arrows. He, Barlo, and Sinstari remained unharmed.
Iarion shook himself and continued to fight those who got close enough. The dark creatures seemed equally confused about this turn of events. They continued to rush toward their prey, not realizing what was happening until it was too late. Only a few had the good sense to flee.
The water behind Iarion and his companions surged to life as Feoras raised his arms. Any creature that got close enough to strike them was swallowed by an unnatural wave. None of them resurfaced. In a matter of moments, an intense silence filled the forest. Every last dark creature in the area was dead.
Iarion turned to face the line of ships, unsure what to think. A small boat was already approaching them, rowed by Alfiabalas. Feoras sat beside him. Barlo still held his ax ready, wearing a perplexed expression.
“What in the name of the First Father is going on?”Alfiabalas rowed the boat to the bank beside them. “Please, you must get in. Time is growing short.” He spoke in the Common Tongue.
“Just what are you playing at?” Barlo demanded, looking skeptical.
“We will explain as we ferry you across,” Feoras said. “There is no time for delay.”
Barlo looked to Iarion, who shrugged. What choice did they have? After splashing his face to rinse the mud and grime, he climbed into the boat and turned to help Sinstari and Barlo. The cat followed him without hesitation. Barlo however, was another story.
“Oh, no. You’re not getting me in one of those again. Especially not without any potion to settle my stomach.” The dwarf looked green at the thought.
“Barlo, it’s only to get across the river,” Iarion said. “You’ve done it before. It’s nothing like the sea. You didn’t come this far to abandon me now, did you?”
“I suppose not. But if I lose my lunch all over you, I don’t want to be hearing any complaints.” Barlo clambered aboard after rinsing himself clean. “Dwarves in boats. It’s unnatural.”
Once everyone was settled, Alfiabalas began to row. Feoras turned to face them.
“I suppose an explanation is in order,”
he said. Barlo muttered something under his breath. Feoras silenced him with a look. “After you left Rasdaria, I thought long and hard on what you had to say. I also sent my gulls to scout the land, seeking proof of your tale. What they saw only confirmed it. I realized the situation was not as hopeless as I had thought.
“I was selfish to give in to Saviadro and bargain the lives of the Rasadar without their knowledge. I only wanted to keep them safe. I now realize by doing so, I was only sentencing them and the rest of Lasniniar to a worse fate. For that, I am deeply sorry. I can only hope it is not too late for me to redeem myself.”
“After I dropped you off on the mainland, I began to spread word of what was happening among my people.” Alfiabalas spoke between strokes. “Many went to Mar Ras to petition the lord and lady to allow our involvement in the coming war. At first, the lord and lady resisted, not wanting to send their people off to die in a faraway place. But it seems their daughters can be most persuasive.” He gave Iarion a wink. Iarion couldn’t help but smile.
“In short, we are here to help you,” Feoras said. “We hold the river against the dark army. Saviadro must cross the Rillin to reach the Quenya. Lord Valanandir and Lady Iadrawyn are using all their remaining power to shield Eraquenya. Even from the air on his drake, Saviadro may not approach the glade. He had hoped to capture you here. He thought we were holding the river for him. I am afraid it won’t be long before he learns he was mistaken. He will be most displeased.”
“I am sorry about the deception,” Alfiabalas said. “We needed you to believe we had betrayed you so the dark creatures would be convinced. If they had sensed anything amiss, they would have fled, drawing the attention of the Fallen One. We needed them to come willingly within range of our bows.”
“In this case, I think we can forgive you.” Iarion allowed some of his relief to seep into his voice.
“It’s not over yet,” Feoras warned. “Saviadro will be desperate once he discovers our betrayal. He will use everything he has to stop you. I will hold the river against him for as long as I can, but I fear it will only buy you a short amount of time. If Saviadro gets past me, all he will have to do is find Valanandir or Iadrawyn and kill one of them to break the shield. You will be all that stands between him and the Quenya.”
“We will try to give you the time you need,” the Sea Elf captain said.
“Actually, I want to talk to you about that,” Feoras said. “You and the others must take the ships and go. I will hold the river myself. I do not need you to stay.”
“We have come to take our place in this war.” Alfiabalas frowned. “We will not abandon our cause after a single battle.”
“Your weapons can do nothing against Saviadro and his Forsworn. You must leave.” The Learnéd One’s tone brooked no argument.
“This is the same argument as before. We decide our own fate. You cannot protect us any longer.”
“But you will all be killed! Only I have the magic to control the water.”
“Feoras, as one who has lived among our people for generations, you have become one of us. If we had decided to go to battle on our own, would you stand beside us?”
“Of course! But—”
“Then do not ask us to do any less. I am the captain of this fleet. We will stay. You may have need for our cold steel before this is over.”
Feoras sighed. “So be it.”
“Here you are,” Alfiabalas said as the boat reached the shore of Eraquenya. “You must find the lord and lady. They will let you through the shield. Good luck.”
“Thank you both,” Iarion said. He helped Barlo scramble out of the boat. Sinstari jumped to land beside them. “Alfiabalas, if you do survive, could you do something for me?” The Sea Elf nodded. “Give the sisters my thanks.”
Alfiabalas smiled. “I will see it done. I—” His eyes became distant as a bleak fear fell over them. “Koresina!” he hissed, lapsing into his own tongue. Iarion could also sense the approach of the Forsworn. Saviadro would be with them.
The water churned as Feoras used it to propel the boat back to the ships. His strange eyes met Iarion’s, conveying his urgency.
“He is coming!”
– Chapter Fifty-One –
Shadow Elf
Golaron plunged into the shadows of the forest. Silvaranwyn, Linwyn, and Lysandir were right behind him. The Forsworn did not follow. They had been forced to flee to find shelter from the sunlight. A Light Elf approached them and made a deep bow to Silvaranwyn. They shared a brief exchange in their own tongue.
“Iarion has been here,” she said once they were done talking. “He and Barlo passed this way only moments ago, fleeing for Eraquenya. We must hurry. Saviadro is on his way. Once he arrives, my people will most likely be overwhelmed, and his army will be able to enter the forest. My mother and father are shielding Eraquenya from attack, so the Fallen One will have to cross the river and defeat one of them before he can reach it.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Linwyn asked. She began to run once more without looking back to see if anyone followed. The rest of them hurried to catch up.
They had only been running for a few moments when a dark shadow fell over the forest. Golaron sank to his knees in despair.
Saviadro had arrived.
Silvaranwyn collapsed to the ground beside him, her eyes rolling back in her head. A heavy darkness grew on the edges of Golaron’s vision. Linwyn stumbled and fell moments later. She, too, was unconscious. From somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind, Golaron noticed the sound of approaching footsteps.
“He is here!” Lysandir seemed to be the only one unaffected. He gripped the collar of Golaron’s shirt and looked deep into his eyes. “The borders of Melaquenya have fallen. The dark army is on its way. Golaron, we must hide Silvaranwyn and your sister until they regain consciousness, before the dark creatures find us. You must fight the darkness!”
Golaron clung to Lysandir’s silver gaze to avoid drowning in the encroaching gloom. He couldn’t let anything happen to Silvaranwyn or Linwyn. He forced himself to help Lysandir drag Silvaranwyn under the cover of a nearby grove.
The footsteps were getting closer.
He and Lysandir hurried back to retrieve Linwyn. Golaron’s movements became sluggish, an effort of will alone. He could feel his resistance crumbling. His grip under Linwyn’s arm slackened as they reached the threshold of their shelter.
He could hold on no longer. He fell to the ground as his world was plunged into shadow.
Golaron opened his eyes to find Lysandir leaning over him. How much time had passed? There was no way to tell in the unnatural gloom.
“Good, you’re back,” Lysandir said. “A large contingent of the dark army has passed through the forest. We must hurry onward. Soon, another regiment will arrive. With Saviadro’s arrival, they will have abandoned the battle with our army. Now help me rouse the others.”
Lysandir went to Silvaranwyn’s side and spoke to her in Elvish, leaving Golaron to tend his sister. Linwyn was cold to the touch. Her face was contorted in a mask of anguish. A single tear traced a path down her cheek. He had never seen her in such a wretched state. It nearly broke his heart.
He gently shook her shoulders and called her name. When she did not respond, he pleaded for her to return to him. His shaking grew more insistent. Why wouldn’t she wake? A tide of panic rose within him. He blinked back tears of desperation.
“Linwyn! Please wake up. I need you. Iarion needs you. Please!”
Linwyn’s deep blue eyes flew wide open. She clutched his sleeve with a gasp.
“Iarion!” she croaked. “We must go to him.”
Golaron sighed. “I know.” He helped his sister to her feet. Silvaranwyn was already standing. Her face was ashen, but she gave him a weak smile.
“We must go!” Lysandir said. “More of the dark creatures are coming.”
Golaron could hear their approaching footsteps. He ducked into the open, his sword ready. The way seemed clear. Only the sc
attered bodies of Light and Sky Elves were to be seen. Lysandir stepped past him and began to run, leading the way.
A Darkling Man suddenly appeared before them, seeming to flee from something ahead of them. He lowered his spear and charged toward them. Golaron stepped out in front and moved aside and the last moment, striking the man down from behind. The man made a wet gurgling sound as he fell to the ground with his spear.
A hiss of warning from Linwyn caused Golaron to turn around. More creatures were running in their direction. Golaron thought he heard something in the distance to the south. What were they running from?
Behind them, the sound of approaching dark creatures became even louder. Golaron and his companions had to push forward, or they would be crushed between the two forces.
Linwyn was already moving. She ran with her sword drawn, calling Iarion’s name. Golaron ran after her. He could only hope Lysandir would take care of Silvaranwyn.
There was the familiar, jarring shock as Golaron and his opponent made impact. He wasted no effort on finesse, knowing time was critical. He cut into the closest creature however he could and moved on, leaving a path of wounded and dead in his wake. Beside him, Linwyn had fallen into one of her battle rages. She laughed wildly as she fought with impossible strength.
They were getting closer to the river. Golaron could hear it. With each step, he also noticed a bleak terror growing inside him. The Fallen One was near. Golaron forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
“The river is just ahead,” Lysandir called out from behind. “Saviadro is already there. We cannot let him cross the Rillin!”
Golaron fought with renewed purpose, pushing his terror aside. There were fewer dark creatures coming at them from the direction of the river. An eternity seemed to pass before the path was finally clear. They ran toward the sound of rushing water and the source of their fear.
Golaron came to a sudden stop. He couldn’t believe what he saw before him. It took several moments for it to sink in.
Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) Page 37