It took several days to clear the carnage the drakhalu had left behind. The elves buried the victims of the attack together in a mound at the base of one of the hills surrounding the glade of the Quenya. Daroandir worked on crafting an appropriate marker. Once the sun had risen, there were no bodies of the drakhalu to clear, only piles of dust and ash that were blown away with the morning wind. Despite the massive cleanup and repair of damaged huts and weapons, as well as the patching up of wounds, it wasn’t until it finally rained that the Light Elves felt as if the nightmare were over. The blood and dust washed away, and the world appeared new again. But the gaping holes left in families by the loss of loved ones and the empty huts were a constant reminder.
Valanandir wished he could have buried Numril. Now that he had been given some time to grieve, he felt a growing anger over the drakhalu’s petty injustice. He often fantasized about killing the creature who had stolen Numril’s life and body. An increasing restlessness told him it was only a matter of time before he would need to leave Vila Eadros to track down his sworn enemy.
He wandered through the village with his thoughts. His passage drew looks that alternated between friendliness and barely concealed hostility. Those who had not lost any loved ones in the battle still looked to him and Iadrawyn for leadership, but seemed to believe the worst was over. Others blamed them for failing to protect the village, just as Iadrawyn had predicted.
Valanandir was beginning to tire of the responsibility that had been thrust upon them. If he and Iadrawyn had not been the first elves to discover and successfully commune with the Quenya, things would be different. He would be free to leave everyone behind and go on a quest for vengeance.
Lost in thought, he failed to notice the approach of Lodariel and Daroandir until they were only a few feet away. Elves gave them nods of respect as they passed. As people with warrior skills that could be seen and measured, they were mostly immune to unrealistic expectations.
“More Shadow Elf refugees have arrived,” Lodariel said, pausing to glare at some elves who were giving Valanandir dirty looks. After their failed invasion of Vila Eadros, the drakhalu had attacked the homelands of the remaining Shadow Elf tribes. Many were now fleeing to Vila Eadros for protection.
“We can make room. They will help strengthen our numbers.” Valanandir sighed. “If only they had listened to Iadrawyn’s warning before the battle.”
“I know it’s harsh, but it is better they learn late than never,” Lodariel said. “If we had enough people, we could try to protect them in their homelands, but that simply isn’t possible with them spread in three different directions.”
“Does anyone know how the Sea Elves are faring?” Valanandir asked.
“I have heard rumors the drakhalu surprised them once by ship,” Daroandir said, “but since then, the Sea Elf armada has held them at bay.” It gave Valanandir hope to know his former homeland was still free.
“How is Iadrawyn?” Lodariel’s expression turned to one of concern.
Valanandir shrugged. “The same. She will not leave the presence of the Quenya. I have to bring her meals myself, or I fear she would not even eat. She is determined to discover a means to protect everyone, should the drakhalu attack again.”
“Which they will,” Lodariel muttered.
“I will go to her,” Daroandir said, leaving abruptly.
Valanandir watched him go. “I doubt he will have any luck.”
“Do not underestimate him,” Lodariel said, giving the retreating elf’s back a thoughtful look.
“Is there any other news?” Valanandir asked.
“Malarin is here. That is why we were looking for you. She wants to speak with you.” Lodariel hesitated. “She is… distressed. I made her wait out of sight of the village.”
“Good idea. People are in a less than welcoming mood these days. Take me to her.”
Lodariel led him through the village, staring down any unfriendly looks in Valanandir’s direction. The disgruntled elves lowered their gazes and backed away. None of them wanted to challenge the former Wild Elf.
They wound between huts and hills until they arrived at the plains to the north of Vila Eadros. Now that they were out in the open, it was easy to spot Malarin’s huge form. She was lying flat on the ground with her head resting on her forelegs. Her long tail was wrapped around her. She didn’t even raise her head as the two elves approached.
“So Iadrawyn refused to come?” she asked in a dejected tone.
“I already told you, she is dealing with her own guilt right now,” Lodariel said. “Daroandir has gone to her. I have brought Valanandir.”
The dragon let out a long, steamy sigh. “Very well. I suppose I have no right to complain.” Unseen by Malarin, Lodariel rolled her eyes.
“So what is it?” Valanandir asked. “Why have you summoned me here?”
“Summoned?” Malarin’s voice rose. “I did not summon you here. I begged Lodariel and Daroandir for an audience with you so I might plead for your forgiveness.”
Valanandir made an effort to hold his tongue. Although Malarin certainly appeared remorseful, she was hardly meek or subservient enough to beg or plead for anything.
“I should have been here the night of the attack,” Malarin continued. “All the dragons should have been here to fend off the drakhalu.”
“So what happened?” Lodariel asked, some of her exasperation creeping into her voice.
“I was still trying to convince the others to leave their lairs. They do not want to leave them unguarded. We are fiercely possessive of our hatchlings and treasure.”
“So why can’t you just leave a rearguard behind to look after them?” Lodariel asked.
“A fine idea, but this would require us to move all our treasure to one place for it to be guarded. Then once everyone returned from battle, there would be endless arguments over what belongs to whom. It could trigger a civil war. We are a greedy lot, I’m afraid.” Malarin hung her head.
“If your homeland were under attack, things would be different,” Lodariel muttered.
The dragon’s hearing was sharp. “You’re right. It probably would be different then. But right now, the others cannot see any threat to themselves or what they hold dear. While they want to do what’s right, their self-interest holds them back.”
“So what happens when their lairs are under attack by the dark forces?” Valanandir demanded.
Malarin snorted. “We are hardly in any danger of that!”
“Not from the drakhalu, no. But what about Nargaz and his army of dark dragons?” Valanandir persisted.
Malarin frowned. “They have attacked us abroad, but never in our homes…”
“How long before they do so?” Lodariel asked, catching on to Valanandir’s line of reasoning. “So far, the dark dragons and the drakhalu have only focused on the elves because we are a large, scattered target, and they have attacked us as separate groups. But what if they were to join forces just as we plan to? They consider anyone who is not with the darkness to be against it. As long as you do not serve them, it is only a matter of time before you become a target. When their army swoops down on your lairs, it will be too late to worry about your precious baubles and trinkets.”
Malarin’s eyes widened at Lodariel’s words. “I had not thought of that, and I doubt any of the others have either. If I can get them to understand fighting is within their best interest…”
“Just make sure you emphasize that we need to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand,” Lodariel said. “Otherwise, they will only want to stay in their lairs to protect them from a possible attack by Nargaz and his army. They need to help us take care of the drakhalu.”
“I think your kind may be dismissing our ability to help them should you be attacked,” Valanandir added. “Let them know if they come to our aid in this, we will stand with them against any attack on their homes.”
Malarin chuckled. “And what would you do against Nargaz? Your arrows will do no good.”
“No, but we do hold the Quenya. I believe we have only just begun to scratch the surface of what it can do. At the very least, we can offer you the protection of the shield.”
“Hmmmm, yes. Perhaps it would be useful to have the eggs and hatchlings relocated here at some point.” Malarin frowned in thought. “If everyone knows they are safe, it would be one less distraction.”
The dragon unfurled her enormous wings, stirring up a cloud of dust. “You have given me much to consider. I will return to the mountains and try once more to convince the others this war is worth fighting. Please know I am deeply shamed and sorrowful I have not managed to convince them already.”
Valanandir and Lodariel backed away to allow her sufficient room to take off. Malarin’s muscles bunched as she pushed off the ground, launching herself into the air. The elves’ hair stirred in the unnatural wind of her wingbeats. In a few moments, she disappeared into the eastern sky.
“I should get back to Iadrawyn,” Valanandir said. He felt guilty for leaving her.
Lodariel tugged her tangled braids back in place. “I will see what can be done to set aside a place for any dragon younglings we may need to protect. Can you send Daroandir to find me?”
Valanandir nodded and they went their separate ways. He did his best to ignore the stares as he walked through the village. It wasn’t hard. He was wrapped up in his thoughts. When he arrived at the glade of the Quenya, he saw Iadrawyn lying on the ground. Daroandir sat beside her. Fearing the worst, he ran toward them.
Daroandir put a finger to his lips and smiled. “I convinced her to eat and get some rest, but she refused to leave,” he said in a hushed voice.
“My thanks,” Valanandir said. Relief washed over him. Daroandir left to find Lodariel as soon as Valanandir explained what had happed with Malarin.
Valanandir looked down at Iadrawyn. Even in sleep, her features were not fully relaxed. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her lips moved soundlessly. He sat next to her and dared to stroke her long, golden hair in an effort to soothe her. Her tight features softened and her breathing slowed. Still, Valanandir could sense her sleeping mind working. He watched her sleep, wondering what visions haunted her dreams.
Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0) Page 29