Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0)

by Jacquelyn Smith

— Chapter Twenty-Two —

  Endless Night

  Valanandir looked out into the darkness, brooding. He had lost count of how many years had passed since the theft of the Quenya and the blocking of the sun. Enough time had passed for elves to be born never knowing either relic of what had become their people’s past. He sat with his back pressed against an ancient tree, facing eastward. The hills of Vila Eadros were a mere shadow on the horizon.

  With the Quenya gone and the land covered by darkness, the elves had quickly become easy prey for the drakhalu. Many had died before he and Iadrawyn had persuaded them to seek the shelter of the wood that had been her childhood home, which they had since named Melatelari. The forest granted them some measure of concealment and protection. They had taken up residence in the ruins of Iadrawyn’s former village. She didn’t like it, but knew it was necessary. Now she spent most of her days alone with the ghosts of her past, trying to reach the Quenya.

  Although Iadrawyn had been able to tap its power while it had been in Vlaz’s possession, whatever the drakhalu had done to the sky had somehow altered her connection. She could still sense its pull, but she could no longer reach it. Valanandir could only imagine how frustrating that must be.

  Nargaz and his dragons also took advantage of the circumstances to attack the dragons who served the Quenya. Valanandir seldom even saw Malarin anymore. She and her brethren were staying close to their lairs to protect their offspring and hoards.

  Valanandir blamed himself. He had sensed there was something wrong with Numril. He should never have left him alone with the Quenya. Perhaps if they had gone to see Iadrawyn first, she would have seen what was wrong and used the Quenya to help Numril.

  He knew Iadrawyn also felt guilty about Numril’s death. Hers was the hand that had slain him. She had not touched her bow and quiver since that day, refusing to eat any meat. In some ways, their shared guilt had brought them closer, but it was still a shadow between them. They both often felt the need to be alone with their thoughts. Although Iadrawyn was sorrowful, Valanandir often found himself feeling angry. He was angry with himself for being so blind, angry with Vlaz for orchestrating this entire tragedy, and even a little angry with Iadrawyn for not allowing Numril to kill him for his folly. Whenever Valanandir felt angry with Iadrawyn, he immediately felt guilty. Then the frustration would creep in. She was the most incredible elf he had ever met. They understood each other perfectly. And yet, there always seemed to be too much standing between them to do anything about it. First it had been her family, then the Quenya itself. Now it was Numril’s death.

  It wasn’t just the guilt wedged between them. It was also their separate reactions to what Vlaz had done. While Iadrawyn wanted to get the Quenya back and right what had been wronged, Valanandir wanted more than that.

  He wanted vengeance. Vlaz should pay and pay dearly for what he had done. Valanandir’s dreams were haunted with fantasies of what he would do if he ever got his hands on the vile Orag.

  So Iadrawyn sat alone at the western edge of the forest each day, watching the sea from the very place she had found Valanandir all those years ago and trying to connect with the Quenya, while he contemplated his thoughts at the eastern border, within sight of all that had been lost. The entire forest lay between them.

  Or so he thought. A shadow fell across Valanandir where he sat. He looked up. Iadrawyn stood before him, as though summoned by his thoughts. If it had been anyone else, he would have told them to go away and leave him alone. She must have known this.

  For a moment, he felt a flicker of annoyance; at her for disturbing his solitude, and at himself for his reaction. A strange light in her eyes gave him pause. All the Light Elves were slowly fading back to their former appearance in the absence of the Quenya, but Iadrawyn’s connection was stronger. Her eyes, hair, and skin still had the same golden hue. But something was different.

  “What is it?” he asked, trying to sound curious.

  “It’s Eranalfia. He’s alive.” The words tumbled from her mouth.

  “Eranalfia? Your brother?” None of Iadrawyn’s family had come to Vila Eadros, including the one brother who had supported her decision to flee with Valanandir. She had spent years mourning him.

  “When he could not convince the rest of my family to flee before the drakhalu, he left with some of his friends. Passage to Vila Eadros was blocked, so they hid in the forest—in the very shelter we shared when I found you. They have been living in hiding all this time. Some Sea Elves who sailed here to try to make the journey to Vila Eadros are with them.” She was breathless with excitement. It was the most emotion he had seen from her in a long time.

  “I don’t want to spoil your happiness, but are all of them what they appear to be?” It was as close as he could come to asking whether any of them had been turned. Like Numril had been.

  Iadrawyn took his meaning and winced before pressing on. “They have all been checked from head to toe. None of them bear the mark of the drakhal.” She also avoided mention of Numril, for which he was grateful.

  “What else?” He sensed there was something more.

  “The Sea Elves among them have made contact with the Sea Folk. The Sea Folk have been spying on the dark lands from the coast since before the Quenya was stolen. They claim to know where the Quenya is being kept.”

  “Why have they not come to us with this information?” Valanandir found himself growing angry and frustrated at news that should have heartened him.

  “It’s not as if they can come to us on land to deliver it,” Iadrawyn chided. “They only speak with the Sea Elves, and there is no one left on Arindaria. They had to wait for someone to come close enough to the water to speak with them.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Valanandir couldn’t keep the sullen tone from his voice. This news was all well and good, but it wouldn’t bring Numril back.

  “I need you to stop wallowing in your own grief and come up with a plan.” Her golden eyes flashed. “We know where the Quenya is. I might even be able to tap its power if I get close enough. We must get it back from Vlaz or more will die. Our people need a leader, and I can’t do this alone. Our people need you.”

  Valanandir rose to his feet, stung by her words, as she had no doubt intended. The idea of taking back the Quenya dropped into his mind like a single stone into a still pool of water. His thoughts rippling, he began to pace.

  After all that had happened, he had not thought the elves would want him as leader again. But his and Iadrawyn’s position as those who had discovered the Quenya still seemed to hold weight. The elves wanted someone to devise a plan and tell them what to do. If he did not, he doubted anyone else would. Even Lodariel and Daroandir looked to him and Iadrawyn for guidance.

  And wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to not only regain the Quenya, but to make Vlaz suffer as well? He desperately wanted the leader of the drakhalu to suffer. Before Valanandir killed him, he wanted Vlaz to experience all the pain he had inflicted on the elves.

  “It will have to be a small force,” he said, still pacing. “One that can slip across the border of the dark lands undetected. We cannot afford to attack directly, but we will also need a distraction. If we can get Malarin’s dragons to aid us, we can use cut-and-run tactics to keep the dark creatures looking outside their borders.”

  “We will also need a vessel to carry the Quenya,” Iadrawyn said. “I will speak with Daroandir. Perhaps he can think of something. It will have to be light enough for me to carry.”

  “You?” Valanandir whirled to face her. “You won’t be coming.”

  “Don’t be a fool. No other elf can connect with the Quenya the way I can. Of course I am coming. Surely you don’t think to attempt this on your own?”

  Valanandir flushed. That was exactly what he had been thinking.

  “I suspected as much,” Iadrawyn said. “Even if your welfare were of no personal concern to me, I wouldn’t let you do this alone. If you try to leave me behind, I will only follow you.
And you can be certain Daroandir and Lodariel wouldn’t be far behind!”

  Personal concern? Did she have feelings for him the way he did for her? Or did she only mean they were good friends? Valanandir hid his surprise and confusion with a reluctant sigh.

  “Very well,” he said. “We will do this your way.” For now. He kept his last two words to himself.

  Now that Iadrawyn had stirred him to action, Valanandir did have a plan; one that would allow him to attempt to regain the Quenya as well as attain the vengeance he sought. Iadrawyn wouldn’t like it.

  He would just have to make sure she didn’t figure it out until it was too late.