Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1)

by Smith, Jacquelyn

  “You are right, Iarion.” Silvaranwyn spoke softly as she walked toward them. She held her mother’s hand. “Twins do belong together.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Iarion said to the two elf women. “Lord Valanandir will be sorely missed. He was a living legend among all elvenkind.” He spoke the words in their own language.

  Silvaranwyn gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Iarion. But do not grieve overmuch. My father will return. He will be reborn here, among his people.”

  Lady Iadrawyn stroked her daughter’s face. Her eyes were filled with sorrow. “It is time,” she said.

  Silvaranwyn nodded and took a deep breath before switching to the Common Tongue. “Iarion, there is something I need to tell you. Since rejoining the Quenya, you finally feel a connection, yes?” Iarion nodded.

  “But you still cannot remember your past or your purpose.” It wasn’t a question. Now Silvaranwyn had everyone’s attention. Even Golaron stood to listen.

  “The time has come for me to reveal these things to you, which is part of my own purpose,” she said. “It is time for us to speak of the Kinslaying.

  “A very long time ago, long before the Sundering of the Elves, a pair of twins was born among the Linadar. Those who were not there to remember it have assumed because they were twins, they were the same gender. This is not so. Like Golaron and Linwyn, these twins were also brother and sister. They were named Alfialys and Eransinta. They grew up together and were inseparable. Alfialys was different from all other Linadar. He was named for his strange, silver eyes.

  “During the Age of Sundering, Saviadro devised his plot to steal the power of the Quenya for himself. He tricked the dwarves into forging his own vessel to hold the Quenya, and entered this very glade during the darkest part of night. In those days, elves came and went, communing with the Quenya when they wished. We never thought a threat to the Quenya would come from within.”

  Although Iarion had heard this painful story once before as a child in Melaralva, it felt as though he were hearing it for the first time. He could see the events unfold in his mind, as if he were actually there.

  Silvaranwyn continued. “Saviadro began the process of transferring the power of the Quenya to his vessel, but he was interrupted. Alfialys had also come to the glade. For some reason, he found he could not sleep and was drawn to the Quenya.

  “He caught Saviadro in the middle of his theft. Alfialys called out in surprise, unable to believe what he was seeing. At first, Saviadro tried to use his honeyed tongue to convince the other elf he was merely acting according to the lord and lady’s wishes. Alfialys was not persuaded. Unarmed, he stood between Saviadro and the Quenya.

  “But Saviadro had a knife. It was another gift of the dwarves. Feigning remorse for his actions, he moved closer and plunged it into Alfialys’s chest. But as his last act before dying, Alfialys used the Quenya to raise the alarm. Saviadro was forced to flee with only the small portion of the Quenya he had managed to steal.

  “His actions had created a brief disruption in the Quenya’s power. The elves tried to use the Quenya to save Alfialys, but it was too late. He managed to tell them what had happened and the word was spread. But Saviadro had already disappeared, fleeing the forest with his prize.

  “Alfialys died without seeing his sister. When Eransinta learned her brother’s fate, she went mad with grief. She changed her name to Finiferia and vowed not to rest until she found her lost twin.” Golaron choked back a sob at Silvaranwyn’s words.

  Her silver eyes met Iarion’s. “All this you already know. But there is more. Because Alfialys died by violence, and before he could fulfill his destiny, many believed his soul would be doomed to oblivion. There is also another theory. Some of us believe because Alfialys died protecting the Quenya, he would be reborn.

  “For millennia, we have waited for him to return as one of his own kind. But his sudden death, tied with the theft of the Quenya, created a rift. He never arrived among our Linadar children. Many believers began to doubt.

  “Then someone came that we did not expect. It was one of our Goladar cousins, born during the Age of Shadow, not long after the Kinslaying and the Sundering. He had lived an exceptionally long life, even for one of his kind. Yet he could not die, because he had no connection with the Quenya.

  “Unlike any other elf, he had no memory of his previous life, or his sense of purpose. The Lord and Lady of the Linadar could sense he was the one to bear the Levniquenya and reunite the Quenya, but they could not say why. He had strange, silver and sapphire eyes, unlike any of his own kind.” Iarion felt the slow dawning of realization.

  “Now that the rejoining is complete, there can be no doubt. You have returned to this place under these circumstances to put everything back the way it was supposed to be, before Saviadro rejected his destiny and took matters into his own hands. Iarion, you are Alfialys.”

  A stunned silence filled the grove. Iarion noticed that everyone was staring at him. A well of strange, new memories floated to the surface. He saw friendly faces he didn’t recognize. One did stand out. She had long, gleaming white hair and dark blue eyes. She was laughing and smiling.

  Iarion suddenly remembered the singing elf maid he and Barlo had seen wandering the wood here, when they had first arrived. It was Finiferia. She had been looking for someone. She had been looking for him.

  Iarion felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of icy water on him as full realization sank in. He remembered how familiar it had felt to be in the grove with Saviadro. Some things the Fallen One had said began to make sense. Iarion sank to his knees.

  “It is true.”

  – Chapter Fifty-Seven –

  Destiny

  “So what does this mean?” Barlo asked. His hand on Iarion’s shoulder was like a lifeline to the elf. Iarion’s whole world had changed.

  “It means he has come full circle. His soul’s destiny is back on its original path,” Silvaranwyn said, giving Iarion a meaningful look.

  Iarion knew what she was implying, but he stubbornly refused to accept it. He had expected the reunion of the Quenya to mean a new beginning for him. He had never foreseen this. He realized now why Saviadro had been so smug.

  “You mean my destiny for this lifetime has been fulfilled,” he said, almost in accusation.

  “Is that not what you have been striving for?” Her eyes were filled with sympathy and understanding.

  Iarion forced her pity aside. It was as though they were the only two people in the glade. A part of him realized they had lapsed into Elvish.

  “I have spent my life searching for understanding and meaning,” he said. “I have wanted to know what it feels like to be certain your feet are on the right path. I had thought by fulfilling this quest, I would finally become complete and could live out the rest of my years in peace. I have given everything I have! Now even this has been stolen from me.”

  “You will be made whole, just not in the way you expected.” She took one of his hands in hers.

  Iarion used it to pull her down so she was forced to kneel in front of him.

  “How is this even possible? For thousands of years, I have wandered, lost and searching. Now, without even having the gift of the Quenya’s awareness, I have managed to conveniently stumble upon the answer! This is not the way it’s supposed to be.”

  Silvaranwyn shook her head. “For you, the signs might not have been visible, but the path remained the same.”

  “I don’t just want a final solution. I want to feel what you feel. I want to know what you know! You don’t know what it’s like to live your life wandering in shadow.”

  “That may be true, but I am about to find out. I have sacrificed almost everything that makes me who I am to serve the Quenya. I have already begun to feel some of the emptiness you have experienced. But each time I begin to feel afraid, I remind myself that all roads, no matter how long and winding, lead back to the Quenya.”

  “So you are asking me to take all this on faith.�
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  “Is that not what you have done your entire life? Think, Iarion. There was never any guarantee you would find what you were looking for, yet you never stopped searching.”

  Iarion knew she was right, but a part of him still rebelled. “But this isn’t right. I haven’t earned this. I’m still lost.”

  Silvaranwyn put a hand to his cheek and gave him a sad smile. “As long as we act according to the best of our nature and try to do what is right, we can never truly be lost.”

  Iarion sighed. “I just thought I would have more time.”

  “Have you not lived several lifetimes already? When you began this quest, you claimed to be sick of your own immortality. Now you are considering hanging on to it. Did you cast down Saviadro only to take his place?”

  “Of course not! It’s just… Well, I feel like all my life I’ve been running in one direction, trying to reach my goal. Now I find myself standing at the edge of a large chasm and the only way to keep moving forward is to leap across. I’m afraid, Silvaranwyn.” He looked up, meeting her eyes.

  She took both his hands in hers. “You are not alone, Iarion. You have loyal friends at your side to help you.”

  Iarion struggled to come to grips with what was happening. He knew what he had to do. He just had to accept it. He took a deep breath. “I always thought this was something I had to do on my own. I was wrong. Thank you.”

  “Shall I summon Finiferia?” Silvaranwyn asked.

  Iarion shook his head. “No. I don’t want her to think she has found me, only to lose me all over again. We will be together again someday.”

  Silvaranwyn nodded her acceptance and let go of his hands. She rose to her feet and stepped back. “The time is drawing near. I must speak with Golaron. He needs me. You should explain this to Barlo.” She walked over to Golaron, drawing him off to the side. Lysandir was comforting Iadrawyn.

  “Iarion, what’s going on?” Barlo demanded.

  Iarion stood to face his friend. He was not looking forward to what he was about to do.

  “It’s over, Barlo.”

  “I know. Now we can go back to Dwarvenhome. You can stay with me and the family for as long as you like. Narilga must be worried sick by now.”

  Iarion tried to smile. “You will go back to Dwarvenhome, but I will not be able to join you.”

  “What are you talking about? You said it was over.” Barlo frowned. “Oh, wait. What was I thinking? You probably want to get together with that elf lass, Finiferia. Well, once you’re done visiting, come on by. Bring her along if you like. We have plenty of room. I know the children are probably missing their Uncle Iarion.”

  Iarion was forced to blink back tears. “I’m sorry, Barlo. I can’t.”

  “Why not? What, you saved the world and now you’re suddenly too good to be seen with the likes of a dwarf?”

  “No! Barlo, don’t be ridiculous. Let me explain. I am connected to the Quenya now. And by reuniting it, I have fulfilled my life’s purpose. I have explained to you before what that means for an elf.”

  Barlo’s mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ of comprehension. “So when you say that it’s over, you mean…” Iarion nodded.

  “But you need to accept it for anything to happen, right? So just walk away. Come back home with me.”

  “And then what? Barlo, I would like nothing better, but eventually I will have to watch you, Narilga, and your children grow old and die while I live on in an empty existence. The only hope I will have of ending it will be if someone manages to kill me. Even then, my soul will be sentenced to oblivion for turning my back on the Quenya. I would become the new Fallen One.”

  “But it’s not fair!” Barlo’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “I know it’s not fair. But this is the way it has to be. Silvaranwyn has helped me see that. Please don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.”

  Barlo’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine. I won’t ask you to doom your soul to oblivion on my account.”

  “If you really did ask it of me, I would probably consider it.” Iarion smiled. “Barlo, you have been a wonderful friend to me. You have stayed by my side even when things seemed completely hopeless. I would never have been able to do what I have done without you. I want you to remember that.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing you ended up on my doorstep all those years ago with a poisoned arrow in you.” Barlo wiped his nose with the back of his hand with a snort. “You’re my best friend, Iarion. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

  “You will go home to your wife and children, and live a long and happy life. You will become the most prosperous Chief of Clans to ever live and you will be a legend among your people.”

  “I did strike quite a deal with Dwarfhaven for their starsilver,” Barlo said with a choked laugh. He threw his arms around Iarion’s waist. “I’m going to miss you, you fool of an elf.”

  Iarion gripped his friend’s shoulders. “I am honored to have been your friend.” His cheeks were damp with tears. He knelt beside Sinstari and wrapped an arm around the huge cat.

  “Will you do me a favor?” he asked Barlo. Barlo nodded. “Will you take Sinstari with you?”

  “If you think he’ll come with me.” Barlo shrugged.

  Iarion whispered in Sinstari’s ear. The cat looked at him with his luminous, green eyes and let out a sigh before licking Iarion’s face and padding to Barlo’s side.

  “Well that answers that question,” Barlo said.

  Iarion felt a sudden weight of purpose settle over him. “It is time.”

  The others stepped forward to say farewell. Silvaranwyn had already explained everything to them. No words were exchanged. They were unnecessary. Iarion embraced both Lysandir and Golaron in turn. Lady Iadrawyn curtsied before him in honor of what he had done.

  Iarion turned back to wave to Barlo one last time before taking Silvaranwyn’s hand. She looked deep into his eyes, silently asking if he was ready. Iarion nodded. Together, they walked toward the tree that housed the Quenya.

  Once they crossed the distance to the opening in its smooth trunk, Silvaranwyn let go of his hand and stood back, waiting. Iarion’s whole life had come to this moment.

  Leaning forward, Iarion closed his eyes and surrendered to the light within. He felt the weight that had settled over him lift from his shoulders as he embraced his fate. A sense of wonder filled him as he was overcome with a blissful peace. Even with his eyes closed, he was in a world filled with light. Iarion took one last, deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

  The light of the Quenya consumed him.

  – Chapter Fifty-Eight –

  Parting Ways

  Barlo stood on Traitor’s Road, waiting his turn to say good-bye. They were just south of the Narrow Pass where Iarion had been ambushed all those months ago. Sinstari waited at Barlo’s side. Barlo’s breath came out in plumes. Flakes of snow filtered the weak, afternoon sun. Winter was coming to the midlands.

  The Light Elves had held a grand funeral honoring Lord Valanandir, Linwyn, and Iarion. Golaron had even spoken some words about Hidar and his part in the quest. All those who had fallen during the Third War of the Quenya were remembered. Lady Iadrawyn had thrown the borders of Melaquenya open for the event, allowing all surviving mourners to attend. The elves were especially affected by the deaths of Lord Valanandir and Iarion.

  Once it was over, all the armies had gone their separate ways with promises to stay in touch. Barlo had sent the dwarves of Dwarvenhome back to their place in the mountains with a message to his wife that he would be home soon. Only the army of Belierumar had stayed.

  A week later, Golaron and Silvaranwyn were married. It had been a bittersweet affair. Once the elf princess and her new husband left for Belierumar, she would never be able to return.

  Silvaranwyn carried her burden with grace and was a beautiful bride. When the ceremony was over, Golaron had sent his people back to their city, charging them with the burden of Linwyn’s body. She w
as to be interred in state next to their father.

  It was several days before Golaron and Silvaranwyn had set out with Lysandir, Barlo, and Sinstari. They traveled across the Adar Daran in relative silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. Barlo felt numb and lost since Iarion’s death. He was afraid to return home to his wife and children. He didn’t want them to see him this way.

  “What will you do now?” Barlo heard Golaron asking Lysandir.

  “There is still much I wish to learn.” Lysandir sighed. “First I will go to Mar Arin to investigate a few things and I will probably go to Rasdaria and visit Feoras’s library. Afterward, I wish to go back to Mar Valion. When I escaped from Saviadro’s tower the first time, I was forced to leave many valuable items of magic behind. There are also some books I wish to retrieve. Then I am going to set fire to the place. After that, I will most likely return to take up residence in Mar Arin. I think it is time I settled down for a while.”

  “Well, be sure to come visit,” Golaron said. Silvaranwyn nodded her agreement.

  “I won’t be far,” Lysandir promised. He turned to face Barlo.

  “I am sorry for what this has cost you.” His silver eyes were sad. “Iarion was also a dear friend of mine for many years, quite often when no one else was. But remember that he would want you to move on and live your life in joy rather than sorrow. We were both fortunate to have known him.”

  Barlo could only nod at his words. He swallowed a lump in his throat as Lysandir turned to leave, heading west. He never would have thought he would be sorry to see the Learnéd One go.

  “You have been a loyal friend and a brave companion,” Golaron said bending over to place a hand on Barlo’s shoulder. “Iarion couldn’t have asked for better. Please bring your family to visit us in Belierumar. You will always be welcome there.”