Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (37 page)

It was an ogre.

Linwyn held her breath, waiting for it to enter. After more sniffing and a snort, it did. Although they were smarter than trolls, ogres were still not known for their intelligence. It walked past her and into the hall.

Linwyn raised her sword, preparing to take the creature down from behind. But after another long snuffle, it whirled to face her.

Linwyn tried not to gag on the creature’s foul breath. Before it could react, she knocked its cudgel from its hand. The ogre roared in fury and lowered its head to charge her with its tusks.

Linwyn ducked out of its path, spinning as she did so to strike it from behind. Her sword slid deep into the creature’s hairy back. The ogre gave one last, wet snort before falling to the floor. Linwyn pulled her blade free and wiped it clean on the creature’s hide.

Even though the battle had been brief, Linwyn felt revitalized. She banished the dark fears that had plagued her for the last few days to the back of her mind. For the first time, she began to believe she might be able to escape. She went back to the door and poked her head outside.

Nal Nungalid was in chaos. The city was blanketed by fog and Linwyn could hear knots of fighting taking place all around her. The wind picked up as a storm moved in. The attackers had started some fires to add to the confusion.

One of the fights moved to the steps below her, and she saw three goblins battling a dwarf. It was Galfidar. The city was under attack by the dwarves of Dwarfwatch. With a surge of battle fury, she rushed down to the dwarf’s aid. Between them, they made quick work of the three goblins.

“Thanks,” Galfidar said once they had finished the creatures off. “Your brother’s looking for you.”

Golaron appeared through the fray. His sword was covered in blood. He spotted Linwyn and ran toward her. She rushed to meet him and they collided in a fierce embrace.

“I knew you would come,” Linwyn said.

“Are you all right?” Golaron asked, pulling away to get a good look at her.

Linwyn laughed, feeling a slightly giddy. “I am now.”

“We’re winning!” Galfidar cried. “They’re nothing without their Forsworn One to hold them together. The Lesser Men have already fled.”

Linwyn looked over her brother’s shoulder as someone ran toward them. A goblin tried to intercept the runner, but they pulled a bow from their back and took the creature down with a single shot, not missing a stride. Linwyn frowned in surprise.

“Silvaranwyn,” she said aloud, amazed to see the elf woman in the midst of the battle.

Golaron whirled around, looking just as surprised. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

A dark and familiar feeling welled up inside Linwyn. An ominous rumble of thunder rolled overhead. She looked up to the sky and sensed more than saw a shadow.

“It has returned.”

Silvaranwyn nodded. “I came to warn you it was coming. You must leave. I will try to distract it while you escape.” Linwyn noticed Silvaranwyn looked pale and wan. Her hair was darker.

Golaron shook his head. “No. I will not let you risk yourself like that again! I’ve seen what it does to you.”

“There is no choice if you are to escape with your sister. That is why we came, is it not?” The Forsworn One’s drake circled lower, within striking distance.

“Do not make me choose!” Golaron’s face was anguished.

Another echoing boom of thunder split the sky. Linwyn watched the exchange, feeling very much an outsider. The all-consuming desolation of the Forsworn sank its claws into her soul. The sky went dark.

The drake banked and inhaled, preparing to let loose an icy blast. But just as its maw was about to open, a blinding bolt of lightning cracked down from the heavens, striking the beast. The drake dropped from the air like a stone.

Fortunately it fell outside the city, or they would have been crushed. The ground shook from the impact.

The spell of fear was broken. Linwyn shook herself. The horrid stench of charred flesh filled the air. For a moment, there was silence. Then a cheer erupted from the dwarves and the refugees of Nal Nungalid.

The dark creatures scattered and fled now that their unifying force had been destroyed. But Linwyn knew the Forsworn One was not dead. It would flee to its home in the dark lands to heal, but it would return.

A familiar figure in crimson robes emerged from the fog as the first drops of rain began to fall.

“Lysandir!” Golaron cried.

“We meet again. And in the nick of time, it seems. I thought I might find you here.” Lysandir gave a tired smile. He seemed older somehow since Linwyn had seen him last.

She sighed. Now they were all reunited. She suppressed a hot surge of disappointment. Although she had known Golaron would come for her, she had secretly hoped to find Iarion on the doorstep of her prison instead. The elf hadn’t even come looking for her now that the fight was over. He was nowhere to be seen. A warrior such as he should have had no problem reaching the great hall during the battle.

Her disappointment was suddenly replaced by fear. The last time she had seen Iarion was during the battle in the Daran Falnun.

What if something had happened to him? Anger and panic warred inside her as she pictured different scenarios. She couldn’t decide what would be worse: Iarion not caring enough to see how she fared now that the battle was over, or learning he had died without her at his side.

Linwyn forced her frantic thoughts still, and made her voice calm and even.

“Golaron, where is Iarion?”

–
Chapter Thirty-Seven –

Catching Up

“I don’t know.” It was the best answer Golaron could give his sister’s question before she had heard an explanation.

“What do you mean, you don’t know! Iarion is the one bearing the Stariquenya. He is the heart of this quest!” Linwyn threw her arms up in the air.

“He and Barlo got separated from the rest of us during the battle. When Silvaranwyn and I discovered you had been taken prisoner, we had to make a choice. We decided to come after you.” Golaron kept his frustration under control, trying to sound reasonable.

“So you don’t even know whether he is still alive!” He heard a note of panic in his sister’s voice. “He could have been captured, or perhaps killed and the Stariquenya could be back in the Fallen One’s possession!”

Golaron opened his mouth to respond, but Lysandir stepped in. “If that were the case, you would have been of no further value here alive. The Forsworn One wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. Do not make the mistake of underestimating Iarion. Or Barlo, for that matter.”

Although Lysandir’s logic was sound, Linwyn persisted. “You should not have come for me. You should have gone after Iarion instead. I am not as important.”

“You are to me!” Golaron could not stop his voice from breaking. “It wasn’t an easy decision, Linwyn. But Silvaranwyn told me she sensed Iarion had chosen to leave the rest of us behind to continue on his own. He made his own choice, and I have respected it.” The elf maid sat on the steps of the great hall, just out of earshot, resting.

Linwyn put a hand on Golaron’s arm. “I am grateful you came for me. Really, I am. It’s just that Iarion…” Linwyn shook her head in frustration. “What do we do now?”

“We aid Iarion in whatever way we can,” Lysandir said. “We cannot possibly reach him now, even if we knew where to look. But we do know where he is headed.”

“Melaquenya,” Linwyn said, a look of hope dawning in her eyes.

“Saviadro also knows this. He is gathering his armies for a final assault on the Light Elves.” Lysandir sighed. “It is not as I had planned it, but we must make do with the situation. If we can move south and rally an army of our own as we go, perhaps we will be able to create a distraction and buy Iarion the time he needs to complete his quest.”

“What of the Fallen One?” Linwyn asked, her eyes narrowing. “How did you escape from him?”

“I appealed to his pride.” Lysandir’s silver eyes took on a faraway look. “I killed Numarin in combat and claimed it was he who helped you to escape, wanting the Stariquenya for himself. It wasn’t far from the truth. Numarin had entertained such thoughts. Once he was dead, I took his place at Saviadro’s side, playing the worshiping son he has always wanted. Once he trusted me enough to leave me unwatched, I slipped out of Mar Valion, using the same tunnels you did. His Forsworn were still busy hunting you.

“I took the pass back to the Lone Cave. I already knew a woman had been taken captive at Nal Nungalid as a lure for the Stariquenya. The report had reached Saviadro the day before I left. At Dwarfwatch, I learned of the planned attack on the city. The dwarven army had already left two days before I arrived. I headed here with all speed, hoping to reach you in time. I had assumed you would all be together, but that is clearly not the case.”

“No, it is not.” Linwyn could not seem to let it go.

“The good news is Saviadro also has no idea of Iarion’s whereabouts.” Lysandir met Linwyn’s gaze. “If we try to find him, we will lead the Forsworn right to him. We must do the best we can without him.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Linwyn asked. “We have no time to lose.”

Golaron looked over at where the Silvaranwyn was resting. She still looked terrible. “But what about Silvaranwyn? She is in no condition to leave.”

“Then she must be left behind.” Linwyn shrugged as though the matter were of little consequence.

Golaron felt a wave of fury surge up inside him. “Linwyn, she did this to herself to save you!” His hands balled into fists at his sides.

“For which I am grateful,” Linwyn said. “But she understands the importance of what we must do. She would only slow us down.”

Golaron was about to splutter a heated response, but the Learnéd One cut him off. “She is stronger than either of you realize. It is her choice to make. This quest is a part of her destiny. It may be that she still has a part left to play in it.”

“Is there nothing that can be done for her?” Golaron asked.

“There can be no turning back for her now.” Lysandir shook his head. “It is too late. Besides, I do not believe she would undo her actions even if she could. This is her fate. She knew the cost of embracing it.”

Golaron didn’t care about destiny. All he knew was that Silvaranwyn was in pain, and it wounded him to the quick to witness it. He ached to be able to do something for her. He hated feeling helpless. It wasn’t in him to be objective and logical like Lysandir where Silvaranwyn was concerned.

As though his thoughts had summoned her, the elf walked over to join them.

“I am coming with you,” she said in her soft voice. Her gaze was unwavering. She looked at Linwyn. “I will not slow you down.” Linwyn flushed.

“Take the next few hours to rest,” the Learnéd One said, eyeing all three of them. “I will talk to Galfidar to see whether any of his people will come south with us. It will be a start.”

“Then where will we go?” Golaron asked.

“The army of Nal Huraseadro has already been destroyed. There is only one other place in the Upper Daran Nunadan where we might find allies.” Lysandir sighed. “We must return to the Fey Wood.”

–
Chapter Thirty-Eight –

Playing it Safe

Barlo and Iarion languished on Rasdaria for two days. Although Barlo was thrilled to be back on land, he knew he would soon be forced to board a ship once more. It made his stomach roil just thinking about it.

The last two days had not been restful for Iarion. The three princesses of the
Rasadar
were relentless in their courtship. Each sister sought any opportunity to corner him alone until Iarion was forced to take refuge in the guest chambers he shared with Barlo. Even then, gifts were delivered by servants. Iarion became harried and restless. Now, he was pacing as Barlo sat with his feet propped on a low table. Sinstari was stretched out in a patch of sun.

“I’m glad you find this all so amusing.” Iarion’s tone was sarcastic. Barlo had made the mistake of allowing his glee at Iarion’s plight to show.

“Why don’t you just sleep with one of them and get it over with?” Barlo said, suppressing a laugh. “You seemed to have no problem bedding any of the Wild Elf princesses.”

“I can’t!” Iarion threw up his hands. “It’s different here. If I do, I will be forced to wed or incur the wrath of the lord and lady.”

“Married life can be good, my friend. And you could do far worse than a princess.” Barlo’s brown eyes followed Iarion as he paced.

“Don’t you think if I wanted to marry one of them, I would have by now? I can’t be tied down, Barlo. And what is so
damned funny?
” Iarion stopped his pacing to fold his arms across his chest, glaring at his friend.

Barlo tried to control himself. “It’s just with all we’ve been through together, with all
you’ve
been through, I’ve never seen you so, well, flustered!”

“I am not flustered.” Iarion turned to face Barlo and bit his lip, the corners of his mouth twitching. Barlo knew his laugh was contagious.

Iarion drew himself up and continued. “I am diplomatically challenged. Elves do not get flustered. We are naturally stoic creatures.”

Barlo guffawed. “Well you’ve just ruined that reputation!”

They shared a good, long laugh before Iarion turned serious again. “I’m sorry I’ve been so wound up. There’s just so much at stake. They’re lovely young women, but I cannot afford to get entangled with any of them when I need their parents’ help.”

“At least they give good gifts,” Barlo said.

Iarion had received a new bow, a quiver full of arrows, a waterproofed cloak with matching boots, as well as new leather bracers and a belt that had a buckle inlaid with pearl.

Iarion eyed the pile of brightly ribboned items. “Yes, well they are all things I could use. I just don’t know whether I feel right keeping them.”

“I think you deserve it for what they’re putting you through,” Barlo said with a smile.