Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0)
Page 60
Despite Daroandir’s repeated attempts to draw Saviadro out, the other elf remained evasive. He did spend the next millennium living under the boughs of Melavalion, but he often spent his days walking outside the boundaries of the forest before returning to his hut. His accounts of his previous journeys were vague. Daroandir had to restrain himself from pushing for more information than Saviadro was willing to give. At least Saviadro was back in the wood and interacting with other elves, albeit only on a casual level. He maintained a friendly façade, but a wounded secrecy lurked below the surface. Daroandir kept an eye on him as much as possible.
A few days ago, Saviadro had asked for Daroandir to give him some time alone. Daroandir had acquiesced, intending to keep an unseen watch, but he had been distracted by a sudden influx of metalwork that required his delicate touch. A few days had passed, and he had heard nothing from Saviadro. Setting his work aside, he went to Saviadro’s hut to investigate.
The hut was empty. It was clear he had not been there since Daroandir had last seen him. Dust had begun to accumulate. Daroandir felt a growing sense of alarm. How could he have been so careless? He should have maintained his watch over Saviadro. No matter how he may have convinced the others of his new, social side, Daroandir knew Saviadro was hiding something.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and focus. There would be a trail. He could follow Saviadro’s trail. Saviadro may be widely traveled, but he was no scout. He had the natural stealth of an elf, but his parents had been Earth Elves, and hadn’t taught him how to cover his tracks.
Daroandir had been trained by Lodariel and was nearly her equal. He would find Saviadro. He ran back to his own hut to gather supplies and leave a message for Lodariel, who was due to visit him that evening.
Once he was prepared, he returned to Saviadro’s hut. It was fortunate Saviadro did not have visitors other than Daroandir. There were no other prints to muddy the trail. Saviadro’s light prints led south into the trees. Daroandir looked in that direction, searching. A single, golden hair snagged on a low branch confirmed it. Shouldering his pack, Daroandir plunged into the trees.
Saviadro’s trail was cold and faint. Daroandir moved as fast as he dared, wanting to catch up, but afraid to miss anything. The signs continued to lead him south as the sun lowered in the sky. This unlived area of the trackless forest was quiet except for the sounds of birds and animals.
Where was Saviadro going? Why was he headed in this direction? Daroandir didn’t know what to think. As the light faded from the sky, he was forced to set up camp for the night. He couldn’t afford to miss anything in the dark.
It was strange to be so completely alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent a night away from the village. In his youth, he had been a solitary wanderer, but that had all changed the day he had communed with the Quenya. He had hoped Saviadro’s wanderings were similar to his own, but something warned him this was different. Saviadro had become too strange and secretive. Something wasn’t right. Pushing these thoughts away, he curled up in his bedroll and tried to sleep.
The next morning dawned cool and clear. Autumn was on the way. After a cold breakfast, Daroandir packed his things and looked for the next sign on Saviadro’s trail. The markers continued to lead south. After several hours, Daroandir was out from under the trees and facing the rushing waters of the Rilaran. Stooping, he found where Saviadro had crossed and splashed through the chilly water to the other side.
After shaking the water from his boots, Daroandir stopped, standing still. When was the last time he had been this far from the forest? He couldn’t remember. He had forgotten how alive it made him feel to wander the open lands alone. Perhaps this was what drove Saviadro. Something inside him doubted this, but he hoped it was true.
Daroandir rubbed his eyes and stretched, breathing deeply. He felt as if he had woken after a long sleep. What was going on in the rest of the world? What were the dark creatures up to? He pushed such musings aside. He was here to find Saviadro. Crouching to find the trail, he pushed onward.
Daroandir was forced to go slowly so as not to miss any tracks in the tall grass. Although the trail could veer off in any direction, it continued southward in almost a straight line. It was rough going. Out in the open, the cold trail was more exposed to the elements.
By the second night, Daroandir still had not passed the southern edge of the Hamad Balas. As the twilight grew, Melavalion became a dark smudge on the northern horizon. Daroandir made a cold camp. Although he was still far north of the dark lands, he was alone. Lodariel would kill him if he was stupid enough to be found. He smiled at the thought, wishing she were there with him.