Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0)

by Jacquelyn Smith

  Hours later, when the sky had lightened and the rest of the village was waking, Iadrawyn was visited by Valanandir, Lodariel, and Daroandir. They met every morning to discuss the morale and safety of the village since the invasion. Now that all the surviving elves lived in one location, it was even more important they remain vigilant against attack, or they could be wiped out entirely.

  As usual, each of Iadrawyn’s visitors brought something to share for breakfast. Soon there were toasted tubers, berries, and bacon from a wild boar. Daroandir had also managed to find some quail eggs. Although it was a hearty feast, they ate in silence. Three years ago, Numril would have sat with them. The memory of his death weighed heavily on all of them.

  Valanandir was particularly withdrawn, his gaze unfocused as he ate. Although Iadrawyn’s heart bled to see him in such pain, she was relieved he was too distracted to notice her disquiet brought on by the previous night’s vision. She did not want to tell him what she had seen, but he was usually perceptive of her moods, and she had no desire to lie to him. She was not even sure if she could.

  Once they had finished eating, Lodariel broke the silence.

  “Three years ago today, we were attacked,” she said. “The people will have their feast of remembrance tonight, but by tomorrow, they will have already forgotten they were ever in danger.”

  “Nothing has happened in the years since that night to make them believe the drakhalu will return,” Daroandir said. “Vila Eadros has become a place of peace and prosperity. No one wishes to dwell on the dark times.”

  “Except maybe to blame others for them.” Lodariel’s words were bitter. There were still some who held Valanandir and Iadrawyn responsible for not saving their loved ones.

  “We know it is only a matter of time before the drakhalu return,” Iadrawyn said. “I have sensed a growing presence of darkness. Have there been signs?”

  “The home guard hasn’t seen anything specific, but there has been a growing sense of unease during the night watch,” Lodariel mused. “Many have said they feel as though they are being watched.”

  “That’s hardly solid.” Valanandir frowned.

  “There are other ways to see than with your eyes,” Iadrawyn chided. In her mind, the wariness of the home guard only confirmed what she already suspected.

  Daroandir cleared his throat. “When I was gathering eggs this morning, I came across the carcass of one of the rodents of the grasslands.”

  “Rodents have many predators.” Valanandir’s protest was gentle.

  “It had been drained.” Daroandir’s quiet words met complete silence. “I checked its neck. It bore the mark.”

  “Where did you find it?” Lodariel’s voice was grim.

  “It was only an hour’s walk southwest.”

  “Valanandir, this is serious.” Lodariel put a hand on Valanandir’s arm.

  Valanandir sighed. “I know. But what can we tell the village? They do not want to believe the drakhalu will ever return. We can’t go to them with a dead rodent and a bad feeling.”

  “We cannot simply wait for them to arrive!” The former Wild Elf’s green eyes flashed.

  “We can’t lash out blindly either,” Valanandir said. “For the moment, the drakhalu are unaware we suspect their presence. As soon as we increase our defenses, they will know, and we will lose what little advantage we have. We don’t even know how many of them are out there, or where the attack will come from.”

  “Then we must find that out,” Lodariel said.

  “You’re right.” Valanandir’s agreement clearly startled Lodariel. “We need to send a scouting expedition. It must be small, and led by the best scout we have.”

  “It would have to be someone my people would trust,” Lodariel said. “They won’t just follow anyone we choose.” She frowned in thought. “I have a few decent trackers, but I’m not sure whether any of them have leadership material…”

  “That is why you will lead the expedition,” Valanandir said.

  “What?” Lodariel spluttered.

  “You are the best scout and tracker in the village. The home guard will listen to you. It has to be you.” Valanandir’s voice was firm.

  “But who will make sure the village is guarded? Who will take care of you and Iadrawyn? I won’t leave you defenseless.” Lodariel crossed her arms with a scowl.

  “We are in the midst of the village,” Valanandir said. “And we are hardly defenseless. Since you will only be taking a small group with you, the rest of the home guard can stay behind.”

  “And who will command them? If I’m only taking a small group with me, then I will want them to be my best people. You can’t just put anyone in charge. This won’t work, Valanandir.”

  “There has to be someone you can trust. Perhaps I could command them?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Lodariel snorted. “You may have a tactical mind, but you have never been in charge of an army. You have no idea about all the little things involved in organizing, training, and leading an armed force. Stick to the big ideas, and leave the execution to others. I won’t leave you.”

  “I will do it,” Daroandir said. Lodariel’s eyes narrowed as she considered.

  After a few moments, she nodded. “The home guard would listen to you. You have helped train many of them. I also trust your judgment. I’m not sure if these two could take care of themselves if left on their own.” She jerked her chin toward Valanandir and Iadrawyn.

  “Excuse me?” Valanandir raised an eyebrow.

  “You do have a habit of getting into trouble,” Lodariel said. “Someone needs to look after you. If I can’t do it, it might as well be Daroandir. He’s the only one I would trust.”

  “Thank you,” Daroandir murmured.

  Iadrawyn’s thoughts drifted as her friends bickered over what elves would go with Lodariel on her scouting mission and who would stay behind to guard the village. The disturbing images that had woken her earlier crept back to the surface, blotting out everything else…

  Valanandir was kneeling in the glade of the Quenya. A fallen elf lay in his arms. Valanandir’s shoulders were shaking with heartbroken sobs. Sensing her presence, he looked up at her from across the clearing. The skin of the elf he cradled was pale, so pale, with only a hint of its former, golden hue. The elf was male. His frame was unnaturally gaunt, and his long, white hair was matted and tangled. As Valanandir shifted to look at her, the stranger in his embrace rolled to face her, revealing blue eyes, wide open in a disbelieving death stare.

  The dead elf was Numril.