— Chapter Twenty —
Darkness Falls
In her mind, Iadrawyn saw her arrow plunge into Numril’s chest again and again. She had killed him. She—a gentle elf, who had never killed anyone before—had just killed Valanandir’s best friend. Would he hate her for it? She was numb, her thoughts running in circles. Was there anything else she could have done? She had no doubt Numril would have eventually succumbed to his drakhal side and killed Valanandir if she had not intervened. If only she could have tried to use the Quenya to help him…
The drakhalu closed in. There was no time think about what she had done. What were she and Valanandir going to do about this? There were far too many of them, but she did have her arrows. If they were good enough to kill Numril, they were certainly good enough to kill the creatures that had taken Numril away from them. A surge of anger greater than she had ever known rose inside her as she nocked her arrow and took aim. She might as well kill as many as she could before they got too close.
Iadrawyn fired one arrow after another until her quiver was empty. Her extensive hunting experience paid off. For each of her arrows, a drakhal fell.
It wasn’t enough. She had known it wouldn’t be. But the anger inside her begged for release. She had no weapon other than her bow. Still, the drakhalu closed in. Valanandir gripped his knife ready, waiting for them to come within reach. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. She refused to stand by and wait for death to come. Channeling the energy of her anger, she reached…
And found the familiar power of the Quenya.
It was muffled, but her strong bond with it enabled her to tap its power even now that it was in Vlaz’s custody. She immediately saw it would never allow anyone other than an elf to master it. The drakhalu were agents of death and darkness, while it was the source of all light and life.
Light! Her desperate need brought concepts to the surface that she had not managed to eke out of the Quenya after endless hours of communing. While she sensed it should not be used as a weapon, it could be manifested in a benign manner. Benign to elves at least…
Closing her eyes, she pulled from the massive pool of energy as she did when making a shield. Only this time, she spun it into the form of a small sun. At first, the light was weak, but as she continued to draw more energy from the Quenya, it grew in both size and intensity until it was about the size of her head. She sent it up into the air above her with a grim smile.
For the first moment, the advancing drakhalu did not know what to make of this. Valanandir’s eyes and mouth had gone wide with surprise at this new display of power. But as Iadrawyn concentrated and the light increased, the creatures that were closest began to scream in agony.
This was no ordinary light. It was pure sunlight.
Every drakhal it touched disintegrated into a pile of dust. The ones closest had packed themselves into the glade so tightly, there was no chance of escape. A ring of dust and death screams radiated outward from where she stood, until only the creatures in the outermost shadows remained.
Iadrawyn’s legs gave way and she crumpled to the ground. She was not used to having to reach for the Quenya. She was panting and sweating as though she had been running for leagues. Her body trembled with exhaustion. Above her, the small sun slowly dimmed into nothingness.
Sensing her weakness, the remaining drakhalu moved forward. Valanandir placed himself between them and her, dropping into a defensive crouch. Iadrawyn bit back a moan. There were still too many. She used the last of her strength to reach out to the Quenya one last time and throw up a small shield around her and Valanandir. The creatures threw themselves against the sparkling dome, snarling in frustration. They circled, waiting. Eventually, Iadrawyn’s strength would give out and the shield would go down. She gritted her teeth and held on.
Just when she thought she couldn’t last any longer, two things captured her attention. The first was a familiar war cry from across the glade. She and Valanandir peered past the press of enemy bodies to see an army of elves, led by Lodariel and Daroandir. They charged into the glade, falling on the drakhalu.
The second event was heralded by a plume of flame lighting the night sky. The air filled with the thunder of dragon wings as Malarin flew overhead, leading her dragon army. As one, they swooped over Vila Eadros, driving out the remaining drakhalu to turn them into pillars of flame. None of the drakhalu that Vlaz had left behind survived the onslaught.
As the last creature in the glade fell under a wooden stake, Iadrawyn lowered the shield. Her long hair hung in sweat-dampened hanks around her face. Daroandir rushed to her side as soon as the shield disappeared. Valanandir met her gaze, his silver eyes filled with indecision. It clearly pained him to see her in such a state after what they had just been through. She knew he was torn between the desire to stay by her side and the need to pursue the dark creature that had stolen the Quenya and ruined his best friend.
She held his gaze. “Go.” Her voice emerged as a dry croak. He nodded and ran into the night.
Lodariel was pacing the grass in front of her, agitated. “If I had only listened to your warning, we might not be in this situation. I should have been here to protect you.”
“Lodariel, you couldn’t have known.” As always, Daroandir was the calm voice of reason. “If you hadn’t split up the scouting force as you did, we might never have known there were two forces.”
“I should have been here!” Lodariel’s hands were balled into fists. She turned away to continue pacing.
“How bad…?” Iadrawyn almost couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“We tried, but we didn’t have much time to prepare,” Daroandir said. “Many did not want to believe we were in any danger. The remaining drakhalu have been defeated, but our losses are heavy.”
Iadrawyn forced herself to choke back a sob.
Daroandir frowned. “Iadrawyn, where is the Quenya?” Lodariel froze at his question.
“Vlaz, their leader, he took it,” Iadrawyn said. “Valanandir has gone to find him.”
“How is that even possible?” Lodariel demanded.
Once she started, the words seemed to tumble from Iadrawyn’s lips. She began with her vision and how it had led to her finding a changed Numril about to kill Valanandir.
“I brought my bow because I thought the village had been infiltrated,” she finished, her voice hoarse. “How else would Numril be killed? I couldn’t even understand how he would be alive in the first place. I never knew it would be me that would kill him.”
“There was no way for you to know,” Daroandir said. “Based on your own words, I would say Numril was beyond saving. He was bitten by the leader of the drakhalu and spent three years as his slave. Vlaz killed him, not you. Do not take blame for this. If anything, you liberated him.”
“Valanandir must hate me.” Iadrawyn’s voice was small.
“If he does, I’ll be the first to knock some sense into him,” Lodariel said, making Iadrawyn smile through her tears.
She and Daroandir helped Iadrawyn back to her hut, where they waited for Valanandir’s return. They ate breakfast and drank tea while tending their wounds. Lodariel refused to rest until she saw to the welfare of her warriors. She returned perhaps an hour later to join Daroandir and Iadrawyn.
“The village is demoralized,” she said as she flopped onto a cushion on the floor. “They sense the absence of the Quenya. Despite the arrival of the dragons, we have lost roughly half of our warriors. About a third of the civilian population died during the attack.” Her news hit Iadrawyn like a blow. If only Valanandir could track down and retrieve the stolen Quenya…
A few hours after Lodariel’s return, the thundering sound of wingbeats drew them outside. Malarin was landing in the midst of the village with Valanandir on her back. Although the morning sky was red—a bad omen—Iadrawyn noticed something else amiss. The sun was not as bright as it should be. It was as if it had dimmed in the absence of the Quenya. In her heart, she knew this was the ending of an age.
Valanandir’s face as he slid from Malarin’s back was bleak. His eyes were sunken and his face haggard. He looked as though he had aged since the day before. Iadrawyn rushed forward to support him as his legs gave way. He leaned against her. Although Malarin also looked tired, her tail lashed from side to side in agitation.
“We chased Vlaz and his remaining army across the plains.” Valanandir’s voice was devoid of emotion. “They are difficult to follow in the darkness. Many of them died, but Vlaz evaded us. He escaped into the Dira Nelar.”
“It’s the wretched fog that hangs over that place,” Malarin made a rude sound. “It makes us dragons useless! A certain elf wanted to land and continue the search on foot, but I flew back. One elf with a wing of dragons trundling behind him through a swamp is no way to hunt an enemy.”
Valanandir flushed before raising his bloodshot eyes to meet the gazes of his closest remaining friends, who stood silent in disbelief.
“The Quenya is gone.”
Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0) Page 38