— Chapter Twenty-Seven —
Vengeance
Valanandir had no trouble slipping away from his companions unnoticed. When he had seen the trace of a pathway leading toward the surrounding peaks of the Hamad Orom to the northeast, he had allowed himself to lag behind.
The others would be fine without him. Lodariel and Daroandir would keep Iadrawyn safe. While he had hoped the Quenya would be in the possession of the drakhalu, he knew as soon as Iadrawyn had sensed the Quenya in the dark dragons’ mountain that their paths would separate. When he had devised the plan to infiltrate the dark lands, retrieving the Quenya had only been his secondary objective. He had a much more personal matter to attend to first.
Vlaz. The Orag of the drakhalu had not been at the head of his army when they had watched it pass. The foul creature was too canny to be personally involved in the conflict when he could send his lackeys in his stead, especially when Nargaz would be from his lair and the Quenya. No, he must still be here. Valanandir would find him. And when he did… Vlaz would pay dearly for what he had done to Numril.
The caves of the drakhalu were dark, with crude torches spread at long intervals. The stone corridors were filled with shadows where anything could hide. While Valanandir’s night vision was good, he knew a drakhal’s would be far better. He crept into the bowels of the mountains, his senses alert. The edges of a wooden stake dug into his palm. He had more in his pack. Carved from the trees of Melatelari after conceiving this plan, Valanandir held his weapon in a white-knuckled fist.
The tip was dark with blood. He had been forced to use it a few times already. Although most of the drakhalu had emptied their nest to march off to battle, some still remained. To Valanandir’s horror, many were turned Shadow Elves. While those who had made the pilgrimage to Vila Eadros and the Quenya had remained safe until the attack, Vlaz and his minions had been busy ruling the night of the outside world, bringing terror to those who had refused to leave their ancestral homes. Now these newly-born children of the night had been left behind by their makers, too young in their roles to be trusted or controlled on the battlefield.
The first time Valanandir had encountered one, he had frozen. Although he knew it was not possible, in his mind, each of the changed creatures wore Numril’s face. He could not leave them to their dark fate. Cursing and sobbing, he had killed each one, plunging the stake deep into their hearts. This only fuelled his hatred of Vlaz, and his driving need for vengeance. He began to fantasize that each creature wore the Orag’s face, and the killing became easier.
Valanandir did not know how long he spent wandering in the shadows. Time had no meaning beneath the mountains. Occasionally, his mind wandered from his quest to think about Iadrawyn.
Was she still safe? Had he made a mistake leaving her?
He knew if anything happened to her while he wasn’t there to protect her, he would never forgive himself. Although his obsession with killing Vlaz had kept him apart from her in recent months, she was still the most important thing in his life. He did not want to live without her. He hoped she would understand what he had done by leaving. Knowing Iadrawyn, she probably would, which only made him feel more guilty.
Valanandir pushed such thoughts aside and focused on the situation at hand. Although many tunnels branched off in different directions, he stuck to the main path. Surely Vlaz’s chambers would be in a central location. He continued wandering the dimly-lit corridors until he stumbled through an opening.
The chamber was large, and there were entrances to other private chambers toward the rear. Plush carpets the color of blood covered the floor. The walls were intricately carved with historic scenes from the drakhal perspective. Many panels depicted drakhalu drinking from the throats of their elven victims. One drakhal figured prominently in these scenes, creating and ruling the other creatures to eventually lead them to triumph over the elves. Whoever had done the carvings had some measure of skill, for Valanandir recognized the glorified drakhal.
It was Vlaz.
“So the lamb has entered the lion’s den.” A rich voice spoke from behind Valanandir. “Surprising, although not altogether wise.”
Valanandir whirled. Vlaz sat in a velvet-padded, wooden chair atop a stone dais. He leaned his cheek against his propped fist, considering his uninvited guest. His dark eyes were filled with a mirthful smugness, widening in surprise as he took in Valanandir’s features.
“And not just any lamb, but Valanandir himself!” he crowed, laughing. “Ah, this is too much. And here I was just pondering how I could gain access to the Quenya while Nargaz is off playing war. Yes, I believe Eruvalion just outlived his usefulness.” Vlaz leered at him.
“Eruvalion?” Valanandir seized the unexpected information, too startled by it to focus on anything else.
“Ah yes, I believe he is known to you. He speaks often of making you pay for taking his precious Iadrawyn from him. He was unbalanced before, but he is quite mad now. I will enjoy watching you wrest the Quenya from him. Yes, although unexpected, you will be the perfect tool.”
Valanandir felt a chill of fear. Eruvalion’s obsession with Iadrawyn was dangerous. With the power of the Quenya behind it, he would be deadly. He cursed himself for leaving Iadrawyn and the others.
“I will never do anything for you!” He kept his eyes directed away from Vlaz’s hypnotic gaze. Committed now, Valanandir knew he must continue to keep Vlaz distracted. He must not learn of Valanandir’s companions.
“But I think you will.” Vlaz rose from his chair and took a few steps forward. “There is nothing to stop me from making you mine, just like your dear friend, Numril. The taste of his blood, infused with the power of the Quenya, was delectable. I hunger to taste its like again. And after all, you are quite alone.”
Suddenly, Vlaz was right beside him, reaching for the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Pity Iadrawyn is not here to witness this. To watch her face as I make you mine, to hear you call me Master, just as Numril did…”
Valanandir could feel Vlaz’s hot breath upon his bare neck. The thought of what Vlaz had done to Numril and so many others, of what he would do to Iadrawyn if he found her, unleashed a savage fury in him. Swinging his arm up, he smashed his elbow into Vlaz’s face. The drakhal reeled back with a curse, clutching his nose. Valanandir lowered into a fighting crouch, stake held ready.
Vlaz lowered his hands from his face, revealing twin trails of blood running from his nostrils. His dark eyes turned dangerous.
“I do believe I will enjoy the pleasure of breaking you.” He gave an evil smile as he licked the blood from his upper lip. “I have summoned my children. I want them to bear witness to your downfall.”
Valanandir’s heart dropped. As long as it was just him and Vlaz, he stood a chance. Once the drakhal’s minions arrived, it would be over. In wild desperation, he launched himself at the Orag.
They grappled for a few moments before Vlaz managed to push him away with a breathless chuckle. Valanandir wasted no time throwing himself into another attack. Vlaz easily slid from harm’s way.
Too slow. Valanandir shook the sweat from his brow and fought down a rising tide of panic. Now that he was confronted with the distinct possibility of discovering his own mortality, he realized he did not want to die.
Vlaz grinned as other drakhalu began filing into the cave. They surrounded the two fighters in a circle. Valanandir tasted the bitterness of despair. He was alone. There would be no escape. Numril would die unavenged, and he would never see Iadrawyn again as a living elf.
Vlaz sensed his anguish and closed in, fangs gleaming.
Valanandir squared his shoulders and held his stake ready. He might go down, but it wouldn’t be without a fight. If he could take Vlaz with him, so much the better. All he needed was a distraction… Valanandir’s eyes darted about the chamber, but there was nothing within reach. Very well. He would have to do something completely unexpected then.
He waited until Vlaz lunged.
&nb
sp; With the Orag fully committed, Valanandir dropped into a crouch and rolled away, knocking over several of the watching drakhalu in the process. They rose, growling and hissing, but Valanandir was already past them, backing away toward the dais. If he and Vlaz were going to continue this fight, it would be on the ground of his choosing.
Vlaz raised an eyebrow and made a gesture. The surrounding drakhalu parted to give way, the ones who had fallen over moving aside to block the cave entrance. Vlaz sauntered over to meet him.
Both of them were on the dais now, ducking and exchanging blows. Vlaz’s unnatural speed and strength pushed Valanandir beyond his limits. He gripped his stake in a sweat-slicked hand that trembled with exhaustion. His breath came short and fast. By contrast, Vlaz appeared unwinded and confident.
It would have to be now. Valanandir knew he couldn’t last much longer. He launched himself into one last, furious attack.
Vlaz raked at Valanandir’s face with his pointed nails, drawing blood. Startled by the pain, the elf left himself open to the drakhal’s next move, which was a hard blow to the gut. The creatures surrounding them hissed as Valanandir stumbled backward down the steps, doubled over in pain. Vlaz towered over him on the dais with a triumphant smile.
“I’m going to enjoy this. You are even more defiant than poor Numril.” He stood at the edge of the first step.
With the arm that held the stake clutched across his throbbing abdomen, Valanandir remained crouched. One of the many rugs carpeting the room ran beneath his feet and up the steps of the dais, spattered with his blood. Just as he sensed Vlaz was about to spring, he reached down and gave it a sharp tug. The plush fabric slid easily across the stone. His dark eyes widening in surprise, Vlaz stumbled backward and fell down the steps.
Valanandir was already in motion. He slammed into Vlaz, knocking him flat on his back. With the Orag pinned beneath him, Valanandir plunged the stake deep into his heart. The creature’s back arched and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
“This is for Numril.” Valanandir spoke through gritted teeth as he held the stake firmly in place until the light faded from Vlaz’s eyes. A dark shadow rose from his corpse. For a moment, it hovered overhead. Then with an angry screech, it was gone.
A swish of fabric was the only reminder Valanandir was not alone. Wrenching his stake free, he leaped back from Vlaz’s body, desperately looking for a path of escape.
The remaining drakhalu moved in without sound. Strangely, none of them seemed to be looking at Valanandir. All eyes were fixed on the corpse of their leader. As they drew closer, a growing feeling of hostility filled the chamber. Without warning, they began scrambling over one another in an effort to reach Vlaz. Valanandir was too surprised to react. Were they going to try to resurrect him somehow?
When the first drakhal sank his teeth into the Orag’s flesh to drink, Valanandir realized this was not the case. Soon all the drakhalu were swarming the body, trying to drain some of its precious blood in a wild feeding frenzy. Valanandir backed away in disgust and found himself up against the cavern wall. The creatures stood between him and the exit. He could only hope the blood of the eldest creature of their kind would slake their thirst. They struggled with one another, vying for positions around the body, growling and hissing like feral animals. Valanandir was grateful he couldn’t see anything through the press.
Moments later, Vlaz had been sucked dry. The sounds of discord increased among those who had not gotten close enough to drink. The crowd parted, giving Valanandir a brief glimpse of a desiccated corpse that was already starting to crumble to dust. Countless dark eyes turned to face him, many of the fanged mouths already bloody. They had just drunk the strongest vintage they were ever likely to find, and still they wanted more.
The creatures closed in, eerily silent. Valanandir gripped his stake and fought down a wave of panic. There were too many. All he could do was take down as many of them as he could before they reached him. While he was glad he had avenged Numril, he desperately wished he could see Iadrawyn one last time.
Was she even alive? Or had his folly left her vulnerable? His thoughts went out to her, somewhere within Hamadi Glaurinu. In his mind he saw her deep, green eyes, full of knowledge and compassion, her golden skin and hair, her smile… If only there had been more time!
Lost in his own world as his body went through the motions of battle, Valanandir was suddenly overcome by a sense of presence. He felt as if Iadrawyn were right next to him with her gentle aura of calm. It was so real, it startled him from his reverie.
One of the drakhalu got through his guard and he dodged, stumbling. He wouldn’t last much longer.
“Here!” Iadrawyn’s familiar voice echoed in his mind.
A glorious presence began to fill him. The Quenya! Iadrawyn must have recovered it. Valanandir had no experience with manipulating it as Iadrawyn did. He fumbled with the incoming stream of power, unsure what to do with it. He stumbled again, this time falling to the floor. The drakhalu pressed around him.
Without words, Iadrawyn showed him what to do, guiding him. The power flowed through him, making the creatures flinch. With Iadrawyn’s help, he spun it into a miniature sun in the air above. The drakhalu hissed and backed away. Once the orb stabilized, he poured the remaining energy into it. Suddenly, the cavern was as bright as full noon. Even Valanandir was forced to close his eyes. How long had it been since he had seen the sun?
Shrieks of terror and agony filled his ears as Iadrawyn continued to feed him power from the Quenya. His senses were on fire as it rushed through him. It was like trying to contain and direct something as vast and powerful as the sea in the midst of a storm.
Moments, or perhaps an eternity later, Valanandir’s focus wavered as he trembled with exhaustion. Iadrawyn’s presence began to slip away with a feeling of regret. The remaining power ebbed from him until it was gone. Beneath his closed lids, Valanandir sensed that the light had faded. He opened his eyes, wiping away tears. He had to blink several times to make sense of the darkness.
The chamber was still lit by torches, but it seemed dark compared to how bright it had been just moments before. Piles of dust littered the room. Even Vlaz’s body had fully disintegrated under the light of the Quenya.
Stifling a groan, Valanandir pushed himself to his feet. Every part of his body ached. His limbs felt as though they were made of lead. Now he began to understand how Iadrawyn felt after communing with the Quenya to perform a working.
A low hiss near the entrance warned him he was no longer alone. A new wave of drakhalu stragglers, or perhaps those who had gained the sanctuary of the hallway, glided into the chamber. There were seven of them. Valanandir still gripped his stake, but he knew he was finished. He had nothing more to give.
He reached for Iadrawyn’s presence once more, hoping she might sense his need, but came up empty-handed. He was alone. Once more, the creatures stood between him and the exit. With grim determination, he backed himself against the wall and waited for the creatures to come to him.
A new shadow creeping into the chamber behind them caught his attention. It didn’t move like a drakhal. Hooded and cloaked, it walked up behind the closest drakhal and tapped it on the shoulder. The drakhal whirled and the hooded figure stabbed him in the heart with a stake. The surprised creature slumped to the floor without a sound.
Sensing something was amiss, one of the others turned and noticed the intruder, alerting the rest. With a familiar laugh, the stranger flung back their hood and whirled into action, long, red-gold braids flying. Lodariel!
Two more of the drakhalu fell before they realized what had happened. Only four remained. Lodariel kicked at the one closest to her, while lashing out with her stake at another. The creatures had been surprised at first, but now they had seen what she was capable of. They approached her with caution.
Valanandir knew he could not leave her to fight this battle alone. But drained as he was, he would be of no use in the melee. He tucked his stake into his belt and unslun
g his bow. Nocking one of his sharpened wooden arrows, he took aim. It was difficult when the creatures were all in motion, and so close to Lodariel. Only a heart-shot would do.
His world narrowed to the target. He loosed the arrow with a sigh.
A female drakhal looked down to find the tip of his arrow protruding from her chest. She had been shot clean through from behind. Clawing ineffectually at the air, she slumped to the floor.
Lodariel took advantage of the distraction and dispatched one of the others. Now only two drakhalu remained. The intensity of their attacks on Lodariel increased now that the odds were no longer in their favor. Valanandir nocked another arrow and waited for an opening.
Lodariel ducked and dodged, narrowly avoiding their desperate blows. Valanandir muttered a curse. They were moving too quickly for him to get a clear shot. Lodariel was good, but they were wearing her down. Eventually she would make a mistake and give them an opening. The remaining creatures circled their prey, grinning.
On some unspoken signal, both drakhalu lunged forward at once, one from the front and one from behind. Lodariel couldn’t possibly fend off both of them. Valanandir had less than the blink of an eye to decide which one to shoot.
The one in front of Lodariel had its back to him and would be an easy mark. The one behind her was a nearly impossible shot, but more likely to be the greater danger. Hoping his choice would be the right one, Valanandir drew his bowstring. A trickle of sweat crawled down the back of his neck.
Lodariel sensed she was in danger and attacked, throwing herself at the creature in front of her. Valanandir released his arrow and sent it speeding toward his target.
It whizzed past Lodariel, grazing her cheek. Just as she was plunging her stake into the chest of the attacker in front of her, Valanandir’s arrow found its mark, sinking deep into the other drakhal’s heart. Both creatures slumped to the floor. Lodariel bent to retrieve her stake and rose, wiping a line of blood from her cheek.
“That was a bit close.”
“Sorry. I had to take the shot.” Valanandir forced himself to step down from the dais on wobbly legs.
“I would have gotten him too, you know. I had everything under control.”
Valanandir managed a tired smile. “You’re welcome.”
She snorted. “I think you mean, ‘Thank you, Lodariel.’ I did rescue you, you know. If I hadn’t arrived when I did…”
“I would be dead right now. I do realize that. Thank you, Lodariel.”
“You’re welcome.” She flashed him a grin before turning serious. “Now you must promise me you will never do anything so reckless and stupid ever again. What were you thinking?”
“I wanted vengeance. Vlaz needed to pay for what he had done to Numril.”
“I loved Numril too, but he wasn’t the only one Vlaz killed. Was it worth it?” She pinned him with her gaze.
“I—I don’t know.” While it was satisfying to know the Orag was no more, killing him had nearly cost Valanandir his life. Now it was over, and Numril was still gone. So was Valanandir’s anger. Only a hollow emptiness remained.
“Think of how you felt when Numril died,” she said, refusing to let him off the hook. “That is how we would all feel if anything happened to you. Iadrawyn would be devastated. I don’t even know if she could handle it. Just remember that the next time you consider doing something so foolish.”
Valanandir remembered how it had felt when Iadrawyn had reached out to him with the Quenya and felt a stab of guilt. “You’re right. My recklessness almost cost your life as well. I’m sorry.”
Lodariel scoffed. “I told you, I already had the situation under control. It’s something to consider though. Now let’s get out of here.” She tucked her bloodstained stake back into her belt.
“How? The drakhalu must sense their leader is gone. The others are probably already on their way here. I don’t know about you, but I’m in no shape to fight my way out.”
“Vlaz was the ruler of this wretched place. He must have a private entrance. I can feel a slight breeze coming from that tunnel over there.”
The idea of making a clean escape flooded Valanandir with relief. “What would I do without you?”
“Get yourself killed, most likely. Now let’s move. I hope Iadrawyn hasn’t gotten herself into any more trouble while I’ve been gone.”
“More trouble? What happened?”
Lodariel shook her head. “I’ll tell you along the way.”
Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0) Page 50