— Chapter Thirty-Four —
A Desperate Plan
Valanandir gripped the hilt of his knife and forced his weary arm to continue its deadly dance. He landed a blow on a female drakhal’s cheek, slicing it open. Blood dripped down the creature’s face. She licked it and gave a feral grin. Valanandir fell back into a weary defense as she threw herself at him in a frenzy.
Lodariel and Daroandir fought at his side with what remained of the elven army. The battle had started at the forest’s edge, but as more and more elves had fallen to the poison that had been put in the water, they had been forced to fall back. Now that most of the dark creatures were under the shelter of the trees, they didn’t need to retreat to their tents in the Lavi Eadros each sunrise. They were firmly entrenched in Melavalion.
As predicted, the Fire Folk had targeted the shipyards. There was no stopping the fiery onslaught. The elves could only be grateful their opponents were clever enough to keep the Fire Folk from entering the wood. It would only take one of the creatures losing control to burn the entire forest down, eliminating any protection from the sun.
Malarin and her dragons attacked those who remained beyond the cover of the trees, but Nargaz’s minions held them off. Nargaz himself had led a group north and wiped out the ships Valanandir had sent to harry the coast. The fleet was decimated. Now only the ships that had been sent to Arindaria in reserve remained.
Much of the burden had fallen on Iadrawyn. Although Valanandir and the others had tried to warn the rest of the village about the tainted water, for many, the warning was too late. Iadrawyn did what she could to cleanse the water nearest the village and heal the afflicted, but with much of the Quenya’s power going into protecting the forest from the coming invasion, many were lost. Each day, the elves were forced to pull back so Iadrawyn could consolidate what power remained. Valanandir knew she was devastated by the death and carnage and her own helplessness. How she managed to force herself to go on each day, he did not know. At least she had Andirlynia to hold everything in place while she slept.
Each time the elves gave ground, it allowed more of the dark creatures to seek shelter under the cover of the trees. Soon their entire force would be able to enter the forest and abandon their camp. Then they would be able to attack in waves during both the evening and daylight hours. Valanandir used this fear to motivate him. Pulling a wooden stake from him belt with his free hand while he distracted with his knife, he dispatched the creature before him. Another came forward to take her place.
How many hours until sunrise? He heard a mad laugh bubble from Lodariel’s throat, signaling one of her berserker rages. She must be hard pressed. Valanandir felt a chill of fear. They couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Valanandir!” Iadrawyn’s presence filled him as her voiced echoed in his mind. “Fall back. We cannot keep this up. If you retreat, I will create a barrier the dark creatures cannot penetrate.”
Valanandir didn’t hesitate to obey, though he was loath to give more ground. “Fall back!”
The line of elves struggled to disengage, walking backward. Daroandir had to drag Lodariel with him. The drakhalu grinned and advanced, sensing weakness. Valanandir lost track of how far the elves withdrew before he sensed it was time to stop. It seemed quite a ways. His heart sank. Was this what they would be reduced to? Prisoners in their own wood? He fought a wave of bitterness.
As soon as the rest of the elven line halted alongside him, a shimmering barrier went up, separating the drakhalu from the elves. Some of the creatures threw themselves at it, but it was as if they had run into a solid wall. They clawed and howled in frustration.
Only a few had managed to engage the elves before the shield went up. Vastly outnumbered on the elves’ side of the barrier, it took little time to dispatch them. When the last one was dead, Valanandir slumped in exhaustion. He tucked his stake and knife back into his belt and led the rest of the weary elves back to the village. The muffled sound of drakhal shrieks echoed after them.
Valanandir, Daroandir, and Lodariel walked together to the glade where they knew they would find Iadrawyn. She turned away from the Quenya to face them. Her expression was haggard. Although her barrier had stopped the drakhalu, she couldn’t hold it forever. Valanandir rushed to her side, lowering her to the grass.
“You can’t keep this up,” he said. “What can we do?”
Iadrawyn shook her head. “I don’t know. I spend so much of my energy using the Quenya to protect us; I have none left to search for answers.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears of exhaustion.
Valanandir was frustrated by his own helplessness. The feeling had been building for days and now it threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to get away. He needed time alone to think.
“I will get Andirlynia,” he said. “She can hold the barrier for a few hours while you get some rest.”
“I have already summoned her,” Iadrawyn said with a sigh. She looked at him closely and gave a small frown. “Where are you going?”
Valanandir had long since stopped being surprised by her ability to read him. “I don’t know yet. I just need some time to myself for a while. Maybe I will be able to think of some plan that will save us.”
Iadrawyn gave his hand a squeeze. “Go. I will be fine.”
Valanandir nodded and rose. He exchanged nods with both Daroandir and Lodariel before leaving the glade. They would take care of her. He absently noticed Saviadro lurking around the edge of the glade as he left, but gave it no thought.
The village was quiet. Usually the air was filled with the bustle of daily tasks and the laughter of playing children. Now a pall of fear and death shrouded the elves. The funeral pyre was constantly in use for those who had died of poison or fallen in battle. Acrid smoke hung on the air, sticking in the back of Valanandir’s throat. This was worse than any other attack the elves had faced.
His feet led him north. The huts of the village fell behind. The silence of the forest was even more eerie. There were no birdcalls or animal sounds. The ancient trees towered over him, making him feel small. The familiar smell of the sea drew him, reminding him of happier times.
He still missed Numril. He knew it was selfish, but he wished his childhood friend were here now to help him bear this burden. The elves looked to him and Iadrawyn to lead them. At this point, they were failing miserably. This war must not end in the annihilation of the elven people.
The trees gave way to a rocky beach. Valanandir climbed down to perch by the water. Iadrawyn’s shimmering barrier hung like a curtain in the air over the waves. She must have left this area open in case they needed to escape by sea. The sunlight glimmered on the water’s surface. A salty breeze caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Here, Valanandir could almost forget he was in the midst of a war. He allowed his restless mind to drift.
How had the elves come to this impasse? They had come to Melavalion to live in peace. They had only used the power of the Quenya to hide and protect themselves. Had it all been one giant mistake? Should they have stayed in Melatelari and fought the dark creatures there? But no, the Quenya had led them here. Iadrawyn’s vision had shown her this was where the elves should go.
Could the Quenya be wrong? The question shook him to the core.
Valanandir forced himself to review all the times Iadrawyn had been given a vision. Never had they been incorrect. Sometimes they were vague, yes. But Iadrawyn was always honest about what she had seen, and interpreted to the best of her ability. She had seemed sure Melavalion was the wood she had seen. Valanandir thought it unlikely she was mistaken.
Although he knew there were times when she kept visions to herself, he doubted she would keep a vision of what was happening now a secret. So what had they missed? He simply could not believe after all he had been through that the Quenya would leave its caretakers without guidance at a time like this. He had already examined their position from all sides. The elves were not strong enough to force the dark creatures back, and the
re was nowhere for them to flee. He could think of no strategy that could save them. Once again, he went over each vision in his mind, looking at them from all angles.
Suddenly, he remembered the circumstances of Iadrawyn’s vision of Melavalion. She had seen herself and Valanandir leaving the forest and begging Lodariel and Daroandir to come with them. They had refused. Iadrawyn had known staying behind meant certain death. But where were had they been fleeing to? Nowhere in Ralvaniar would be safe. Valanandir let out an exasperated sigh. He was back to where he had started.
A small splash jolted him back to the present. He looked up to see Nimrilwyn. Her skin was golden now since her people had communed with the Quenya. Her blue scales were chased with the same color. She swam as close as the shallow water would allow and waited. Rallavalan bobbed in the water behind her.
Startled, Valanandir walked closer to speak with her. He crouched to meet her piercing, silver eyes.
“Our people are afraid,” she said in her fluting voice. “We know the dark creatures will soon be victorious. There is little we can do from the water to aid you. We do not want the Quenya to fall into enemy hands.”
“I am also afraid,” Valanandir said. “Is there nothing the Sea Folk can do to help us?”
“There is one thing.” Rallavalan’s voice was harsh. “Give us the Quenya. We will take it deep below the waters to our realm where the dark creatures cannot reach it.”
Valanandir froze. This was something he had never considered.
“Rallavalan, we have discussed this,” Nimrilwyn said. “We will not take the Quenya. It belongs with the land folk. If we take it, the dark creatures will pursue us, just as they hunt the land folk now. We will become prisoners in our own waters. The winged demons will never allow us to surface. It will change nothing.”
“You are right,” Valanandir said. “No matter where the Quenya is taken, the dark creatures will always follow.” His own words stirred something within him.
“We have come to ask you what your plans are, and if there is any way we can be of aid.” Nimrilwyn spoke after several moments of silence.
Valanandir’s head jerked up as something nudged into place. “Have any of your people ever seen other lands in your travels?”
Nimrilwyn frowned. “There are some who have claimed to have seen a large continent to the west, but this is considered legend among our kind.”
Valanandir leaped to his feet. “Can you send a messenger to Arindaria?”
“You would like them to return here? Will you sail to this place in the west?” Nimrilwyn’s eyes widened.
“The winged demons will follow you,” Rallavalan interjected. “They will destroy your fleet. At least we will be left in peace after your foolish quest.”
“Rallavalan!” Nimrilwyn gave him a stern look before turning back to face Valanandir. “Is there nothing else we can do?”
“He is right. I will try to think of something that will distract the dark creatures from the ships. Have them meet us here. It is less conspicuous than the shipyards.”
“You cannot distract them forever,” Rallavalan warned. “The only way to be free of them is to destroy them.”
Rallavalan’s words crystallized in Valanandir’s mind, forming another piece of the puzzle. A desperate plan was already forming.
“Once you have delivered the message, you should stay clear of the battle. Keep to your shelters in the deeps.” Valanandir’s mind was racing.
“What will you do?” Nimrilwyn asked.
“I am not certain yet. I need to speak with Iadrawyn first. But if it works, it will be something big. Something dangerous.” Valanandir shook his head to clear it. “When everything settles down, you will be able to find us in the west.”
“I will share your words with our people.” Nimrilwyn gave him a grave nod.
“Thank you.”
“Farewell,” Rallavalan said.
“Good luck,” Nimrilwyn added. She and Rallavalan swam off in the direction of the lowering sun.
Once they were out of sight, he turned back to face the forest. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He had a plan. It was dangerous, crazy, and completely unexpected. But it was the only one he could think of. In his heart, he knew it was the only way the elves could possibly survive.
Now all he had to do was convince the others.
Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0) Page 64