Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (38 page)

Iarion was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. Iarion groaned. Barlo chuckled and called for the visitor to enter. It was a young elf, one who served the lord and lady. He said something in Elvish and left. Barlo looked to his friend.

“The lord and lady will see us now,” Iarion translated.

“Well it’s about bloody time,” Barlo grumbled, rising.

The lord and lady were already waiting in the audience hall. Feoras was also there, standing behind them. Their three daughters stood off to the side to watch the proceedings. For once, they seemed serious and well behaved.

“Thank you for coming,” Telariras said. “I am sorry for making you wait. I hope your stay here has been hospitable.” Barlo thought he saw a twinkle in the lord’s silver eyes.

“We have reached a decision concerning your request for aid,” Raslynia said, taking pity on Iarion. “I am afraid it will not be entirely to your liking.”

“Feoras has brought us under the scrutiny of the Fallen One,” the lord said. “Unfortunately, we cannot assist you in any direct way that will be noticed. Saviadro undoubtedly has some of his Forsworn in the area surrounding Melaquenya already, watching for any approach. Our ships would make easy targets for their drakes.”

“So what will you do?” Barlo asked. He didn’t like where this was headed.

“We have arranged for passage back to the mainland,” Telariras continued. “None of the Fallen One’s spies will think anything of one of our ships making berth at the Forest of the Sea. It is a common occurrence. You will be hidden below decks. From the mainland, our people will help you leave our lands undetected. Everyone has been instructed to deny any knowledge of your whereabouts. With luck, Saviadro will never know you were here.”

“That’s it?” Barlo spluttered. Iarion’s expression was crestfallen. “That’s all you can do?”

“We do not have the strength to stand against Saviadro directly,” Raslynia said with a shake of her head. “We are isolated from the other races. Our allies are too far away to come to our rescue, especially when they are already concerned with a far larger threat. We wish to help you, but we will not risk the annihilation of our people.”

“But if Saviadro gains the rest of the Quenya because of this, it won’t matter, will it?” Barlo demanded. “Do you think he’s going to reward you for good behavior?”

Iarion gestured for Barlo to be silent. With an effort, Barlo bit back the rest of his tirade.

“And you, Feoras?” Iarion said. “Where do you stand?”

“I am deeply troubled.” Feoras frowned. “Everything I have done, I did to protect these people. Perhaps I made a mistake by serving Saviadro, but I did it out of love. Now I am torn. I desperately want you to succeed in your mission, but I know your chances are slim. Even if I were to aid you, the odds would not be in your favor. If you should fail, we cannot afford to be linked to you.” He sighed before continuing.

“I am afraid I must agree with the lord and lady in this instance. I will have no further dealings with the Fallen One unless I am forced to maintain my cover. I promise I will not tell him what I know of you unless I am coerced, but I cannot help you.” Feoras looked sad.

“You are a Learnéd One!” Iarion insisted. His face was flushed and his iridescent eyes sparkled with anger. “Your kind was made to combat the Fallen One and his Forsworn, not to work with them. You owe everything to the Lord and Lady of the
Linadar
. They created you! And now you leave them to die?”

Feoras’s shoulders slumped in shame. “I am sorry. But I cannot turn my back on these people. I have lived among them for centuries! Besides, it is not entirely hopeless. You already have the Stariquenya and you have told us Lysandir is still on your side. He will help you. This is his task.”

“I do not even know whether Lysandir is still alive!” Iarion’s knuckles went white as he clenched his fists. “And make no mistake, if he were here, he would be saying the same things to you that I am saying now. The lord and lady’s decision, I can understand. They must act in their people’s best interest. But you are supposed to protect all the Free Races!” Iarion didn’t let up there. He took a breath and continued before Feoras could cut him off.

“And you were right the first time. There isn’t much hope of us succeeding, especially now that we are separated from Lysandir. You have the power to change that. This is about the fate of Lasniniar. You are either with us, or against us. If you choose to stay here and sit on your hands, you are doing nothing but condemning us to failure. No one knows how long you Learnéd Ones will live, but I would guess it is a long time. I just hope you will be able to live with your decision when Saviadro has claimed all the Quenya for himself and the world falls into darkness.”

Several long moments of silence followed in the wake of Iarion’s words. Barlo stared at his friend in shock. The elf’s flushed features were pinched. He had never seen Iarion so angry. He couldn’t blame him. Feoras was next to useless. With friends like these, who needed enemies?

Feoras was visibly wounded. He spread his hands wide. “I am sorry.” He turned and left.

“We will have Alfiabalas prepare his ship to sail you to the mainland,” Raslynia said in a sad voice. “He should be ready by dawn tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Iarion said. “We will go and prepare ourselves.” He bowed and walked out of the hall.

“We wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome,” Barlo grumbled, pitching his voice just loud enough for the others to hear as he followed Iarion back to their chambers.

Barlo slammed the door behind him as they entered, startling Sinstari. “Well this trip has been a complete waste of time! I wish we had never come to this blasted piece of rock.”

“At least we didn’t have to cross the Daran Falnun,” Iarion said, sighing as he sat. “And we have slipped from under Saviadro’s gaze. I did not expect much from the lord and lady, but I thought Feoras would help us.”

Another knock at the door broke off whatever Iarion was about to say next.

“What, do they want us to leave right now?” Barlo said as he rose to answer. He was surprised to find the three princesses on the other side. Their expressions were serious.

“May we come in?” Rasniwyn asked. Barlo stepped aside, allowing them to enter. From the hunted look on Iarion’s face, he was waiting for them to pounce on him.

“Do not worry, Iarion.” Nimrilriel smiled at him. “This is not a social visit.” Iarion visibly relaxed.

“We came to talk to you about our parents’ decision,” Rilriel said.

“We think they are making a mistake,” Rasniwyn said. Although she was the youngest of the three, she always seemed to take charge, Barlo had noticed.

“It is good to know you are on our side,” Iarion said. “But what can you do to aid us? I will not bring you with us.” A horrified look flashed across his face at the thought.

“No!” Rasniwyn gave a silvery laugh. “Of course not. Do not be ridiculous. But perhaps there is something we can do. Do not underestimate a parent’s love for their daughters. We can be most persuasive when we so choose.”

Iarion’s eyebrows shot upward. “You would petition on our behalf?”

“We will not allow Feoras and our parents to forget the fate they have decreed for you,” Rasniwyn said. Her sisters nodded their agreement. “We will also tell our people of your situation and have them to voice their opinions. Our parents seek to protect them without asking what they think is best. By doing so, they make the same mistake as Feoras.”

“This is good news, although I do not hold much hope.” Iarion sighed. “Thank you.”

“We do this for you, Iarion, but we also do it for our people. For too long, we have lived apart from the other elves and Free Races. It is time we took our place in this world.” Rasniwyn’s silver eyes sparkled with conviction.

“Do not lose hope,” Rilriel said. “Eventually we always get our way.” She winked.

“We have also brought some gifts,” Nimrilriel said. She saw Iarion’s panicked expression and clarified. “These gifts are for Barlo. We have already given you what we thought you might need for your journey.”

Each of the three elves stepped forward with a wrapped package. “A waterproof cloak,” Rilriel said, handing the dwarf her package.

“A pair of waterproof boots.” Nimrilriel said.

“And an elixir.” Rasniwyn handed hers over with a smile. “Take it tomorrow morning before you board the ship and it will prevent you from becoming seasick.”

Barlo threw his arms around the youngest elf. “Thank you, my lady!” Propriety overcame his enthusiasm and he pulled away, blushing furiously.

“Thank you, ladies,” Iarion said, giving them a grave nod. “You give us new hope.”

“Perhaps once your quest is complete, you will come back and reward us sometime.” Nimrilriel gave him a sly smile.

Rilriel grabbed her sister’s hand and towed her toward the door. “We will do all we can to aid you.”

Rasniwyn looked back over her shoulder as she went to leave. “May the Quenya guide your footsteps.”

Barlo looked at Iarion. The elf looked dumbstruck. Barlo laughed.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said. “If they manage to succeed, perhaps you
should
come back and reward them!”

For once, Iarion was speechless.

–
Chapter Thirty-Nine –

The Art of Persuasion

Linwyn did not like the idea of returning to the Fey Wood. She did not want to see any of Iarion’s children or the elves who had once been his lovers. The first time it had been a surprise. She didn’t think she could bear it again, knowing what she knew now. But Iarion needed help. They needed the Wild Elves to join them. Linwyn tried to remember they were doing this for him.

After the battle of Nal Nungalid, the remaining companions had taken some time to rest before setting out. Silvaranwyn looked somewhat better for it, but there could be no doubt she was changing. Golaron seemed protective of her, which made Linwyn wonder. Silvaranwyn showed him a deep respect and perhaps even some affection, but nothing more. Linwyn hoped Golaron would not find himself getting hurt.

She smiled and shook her head. Hadn’t Barlo given her the same warning about Iarion? Her brother was no fool. She decided to hold her tongue.

Galfidar accompanied them with a large contingent of dwarves. More had arrived from Dwarfwatch with the rest of the refugees to help reclaim Nal Nungalid.

Galfidar had been easy to convince when it came to joining their cause. These dwarves had lived in the shadow of the Fallen One for generations, keeping watch. They knew what Saviadro was capable of. They also knew the time for sitting back and keeping watch was past.

Galfidar had sent a message to his brother with a runner, telling him of their plan to move south. The Chief of Clans’ reply had arrived only a few hours later, giving his consent.

That had been yesterday. Since then, they had forded the Sunset River and made camp in the Wild Lands for the night. Now it was late on the second day, and the Fey Wood was drawing near.

Linwyn was glad to leave Nal Nungalid. The memory of her fear and helplessness lingered in the back of her mind. It felt good to be back in her armor and carrying her sword. It reminded her of who she was, or at least who she had been before she had become the Forsworn One’s prisoner. Golaron had even returned her helm, which she had thought lost.

Linwyn knuckled her eyes, stifling a yawn. She had spent most of the previous night keeping watch over the camp, not wanting to see the Forsworn when she closed her eyes. When her exhaustion had finally claimed her, she had fallen asleep in her armor, her dreams filled with darkness.

She had told no one of her secret fear, but she knew Lysandir and Silvaranwyn suspected. Golaron was oblivious, completely wrapped up in Silvaranwyn. Linwyn refused to speak to him of it, not wanting him to know how badly her confidence was shaken. She was always the brave one. It was only the thought of Iarion needing their help that kept her going.

Linwyn shook herself from her reverie. They had reached the borders of the wood. An elf stepped forward to challenge them, his bow drawn. It was not Falan. Lysandir spoke quickly, using the Elven Tongue. The elf’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed to accept whatever the Learnéd One had said. He made a gesture to the dwarves and said something before beckoning for the rest of them to follow.

“I am sorry, Galfidar,” Lysandir said, “but they will not permit your people to enter their wood. You must wait here.”

“Fine by me,” the dwarf said. “Trees make us anxious anyway, and we wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.”

Lysandir turned to Silvaranwyn, Golaron, and Linwyn. “Come.”

Linwyn could feel curious eyes watching them from the trees as they passed. They followed in the shadows, and by the time she and her companions reached the glade where Numadil and Salimarawyn held court, it appeared the majority of the Wild Elves had arrived to observe the audience. It made Linwyn nervous.

“Why have you returned?” Lord Numadil asked, wasting no time on pleasantries. He at least had the good grace to use the Common Tongue.

“And where is Iarion?” Lady Salimarawyn leaned forward on her throne.

“We were captured by the Fallen One and have since been separated,” Lysandir said. “We do not know where Iarion is, but he has the Stariquenya.” The lord and lady’s eyes widened. “As to why we have returned, it seems we are in further need of your help. Saviadro and his army are headed south for Melaquenya. We are trying to muster an army of our own to stop him.”

Numadil sighed. “Then I am afraid you have come here in vain. You know we do not meddle in affairs beyond the borders of our wood. We will not send our people off to be slaughtered in a war that need not concern us. I am sorry Lysandir, but you should have known better than to return. And you even bring an army of dwarves to our doorstep!” The lord shook his head. “You and your companions may rest here for the night, but in the morning you must depart and take the dwarves with you.”