Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (51 page)

“Enough!” Saviadro’s voice grated.

He turned his drake to face Feoras. Feoras tried to raise a shield of water, but he was too slow. A blast of fire hit him full in the chest. The wall of water lowered by half.

The Fallen One turned to finish off the rest of them. Golaron saw Linwyn’s sword trembling in her grip. She couldn’t take much more of this. Golaron stood and pushed her behind him so he could face Saviadro’s drake alone.

There was nowhere to run. There was no way to hide. The drake inhaled, preparing to annihilate him.

“No!” Silvaranwyn’s scream ripped through the air from behind him.

Blades of pure light flew harmlessly past Golaron, tearing into the remaining drake. The screeching was terrible. Saviadro leaped clear as his mount was thrown backward to land in the waters of the river, disappearing into Feoras’s wall. The ships rocked from the impact. Golaron looked behind him to see Silvaranwyn collapse to the ground.

Time lurched back into motion. Feoras clutched at his wound. His skin was scorched. Unbalanced, he fell over the side of the ship as the river fell back to its normal level. With a fiery glance, Saviadro gathered his Forsworn and headed for the water. He didn’t need to kill Golaron and his companions now. He only had to reach Eraquenya and stop Iarion from reuniting the Quenya.

“Wait!” Lysandir called out to him. “Is that the best you can do? You had better deal with us now. We are only going to follow you.”

“No more delays,” Saviadro hissed. “I will deal with you later.” Now that the river had receded, he led the way across on the steaming back of his dead drake before an unnatural wave swept over it. The Sea Elves collapsed as he passed.

Saviadro had reached Eraquenya.

Golaron turned toward Silvaranwyn to find her enveloped in a nimbus of light. It became so bright, he was forced to look away. The light disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving Silvaranwyn behind.

At first, Golaron failed to recognize her. Her golden skin was now the same dusky color as Iarion’s. Her hair was completely black. Silver eyes looked up at him. Her otherworldly presence was gone. It was like looking at a stranger.

With a low cry, Golaron went to help her up, only to find her already on her feet. Although she no longer had her air of power, she seemed stronger somehow.

“What…?” Golaron shook his head in wonder.

“I have completed my transformation.” Only her musical voice remained unchanged. “I used our close proximity to the Quenya to unleash the last of my magic. Pure light is not technically a weapon, but it is deadly to the creatures of darkness. I am
Goladain
now, a Shadow Elf.”

Linwyn tugged at Golaron’s sleeve to get his attention. He saw Feoras lying on the riverbank with Lysandir at his side.

“I have failed.” Feoras’s voice was weak. He used his hands to try to hide the extent of his wound. “I should never have listened to the sweet lies of Saviadro. Now you will all pay the price.” Tears ran down his cheeks.

“You saw the error of your ways,” Lysandir said, sweeping Feoras’s hair back from his brow. “I know you were only trying to do what was best for the
Rasadar
. You have done all you can.”

“I only wish it were more.” He clutched Lysandir’s robe. “You must stop him. Do not waste any more time here. Go now.” He made a weak gesture and the waters of the river parted, creating a pathway. “I cannot hold it for long.” Dimly, Golaron noticed an elf approaching from the ships in a rowboat.

“Thank you, my brother,” Lysandir said as he rose to his feet. “Be at peace.”

A shout from behind caused them all to turn. The rest of the dark army had arrived. They rushed toward them.

The elf in the boat sprang to the shore and gently gathered Feoras in his arms. “You must go!” he said in the Common Tongue as he lowered Feoras into the craft. “He cannot hold on for much longer. We will hold the river now.”

Silvaranwyn took the lead. She ran across the path through the river on light feet. The others followed. The waters rejoined behind them as they stepped onto the far shore.

Feoras was gone.

Silvaranwyn never looked back. With bow and arrow in hand, she led them on to the glade of the Quenya.

–
Chapter Fifty-Two –

Reunion

Barlo struggled to keep up with Iarion and Sinstari. The trees flew by in a green and gold rush as he pumped his short legs. The ground trembled and a rumbling sound filled the air somewhere behind them. Saviadro must be trying to cross the river. Barlo used the fearsome image to push himself even harder.

He almost ran into Iarion when the elf came to a sudden stop. The air before them shimmered like a translucent curtain of light. Barlo could make out the glade of the Quenya behind it. This must be the shield Feoras had spoken of.

“Good. You have finally come.” Lady Iadrawyn appeared on the other side. Lord Valanandir stood beside her.

The lady reached out her hand to Iarion, allowing it to penetrate the shield. Iarion placed his one hand on Sinstari’s shoulder while reaching out to Iadrawyn with the other. He gave Barlo a look. Barlo didn’t hesitate. He slapped his hand onto the cat’s back. He wasn’t about to be left behind. He had come too far.

Iarion stepped forward, bringing Barlo and Sinstari through the shield. Barlo felt a strange, tingling sensation as he crossed over. He looked back once they had reached the other side. The curtain had closed behind them.

Lord Valanandir took hold of Iarion’s arm. “You must hurry. We have sent all the glade’s guardians to hold off the dark creatures. Their weapons will be of no use against Saviadro. Only the two of us hold the glade now.”

Iarion nodded and forged ahead without looking back. Barlo and Sinstari could do nothing but try to keep up.

The enormous, golden tree that housed the Quenya towered in the air before them. Barlo felt a warm shiver pass through him as the Quenya’s power made itself known.

This was it. This was the moment they had fought so hard for.

The glade was empty. Barlo watched as Iarion knelt before the tree. Iarion pulled his pack from his shoulders, and drew forth the Levniquenya. The runes on the silver sphere still glowed, but the dark light seemed to be battling against the clean glow of the Quenya.

Iarion sat, holding the Levniquenya in both hands. He appeared mesmerized by the violet light of the runes, which chased across its surface. Barlo waited, suddenly realizing he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly. Moments passed.

Nothing happened. Iarion remained motionless.

Barlo shook his head. Something was wrong. He went to his friend’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Iarion, what’s wrong?” Iarion didn’t respond. Barlo gave him a shake. “Hurry up! This is no time to hesitate.”

Still nothing. Barlo leaned over to look him in the eye. Iarion’s silvery-blue gaze was wide and unblinking, focused on something Barlo couldn’t see.

“Iarion, come on now.” Barlo gave him another shake. “Iarion!”

A tide of panic rose within him. He didn’t know what to do! He couldn’t touch the Levniquenya. He wasn’t an elf. But he had to do something. Perhaps the lord and lady could help. Barlo leaped to his feet and started to run back to the glade’s edge.

He halted in midstride when he noticed Sinstari. The cat was lowered in a crouch with his ears flattened. He let out a low growl. Barlo looked around, trying to identify the threat. He had learned by now to take the beast’s warnings seriously. He moved his hand over the haft of his ax.

A wave of pure despair washed over him, and suddenly he knew. Saviadro had caught up to them.

Golaron tried to keep Silvaranwyn in sight, but she was too far ahead. Linwyn was running beside him, her eyes unfocused. Golaron skidded to a stop when the Fallen One and his minions came into view. He held out an arm to warn Linwyn. Lysandir was right behind them.

Saviadro stood before what Golaron assumed was the shield protecting the Quenya. He could see two Light Elves standing on the other side. Golaron realized they must be Silvaranwyn’s parents.

“You cannot hold me back forever.” Saviadro’s hollow voice reached them.

“No, but we can give Iarion the time he needs to do what he must,” the elven lord said.

“He hesitates,” the Fallen One gloated. “He has tasted the waters of the Forbidden Pool.”

Lysandir let out a low hiss. He grabbed Golaron’s arm, wrenching him around to meet his fierce glare. “You never told me that!”

“What does it matter?” Golaron shook his head in confusion. “He went into a coma afterward, but he regained consciousness. He seemed fine!”

“He has seen things he should not have. Now they are overpowering him, preventing him from acting!” Lysandir seemed to realize he was shaking Golaron and suddenly let go. “We can only hope he is strong enough to fight the visions.” His silver eyes looked haunted.

Golaron turned back to face the scene unfolding before them. He finally spotted Silvaranwyn. She was creeping up behind Saviadro, her bow drawn. Golaron’s heart was in his throat. What was she thinking? She had no hope against the Fallen One. She must be trying to create a distraction. Saviadro was still in conversation with the lord and lady and didn’t seem to notice her. Golaron desperately wanted to call out or run to her, but she was too far away.

Saviadro’s hand suddenly shot out to snatch Silvaranwyn’s hair. He pulled her up beside him. She cried out, wilting under his grip.

“This is your daughter, if I’m not mistaken. She certainly has changed since I first had the privilege of meeting her. Such a waste.”

Golaron was about to run forward, but Lysandir held him back. Golaron could see the anguished expressions on the lord’s and lady’s faces from beyond the shield.

“I can see she still has value to you,” Saviadro taunted. “I could kill her, but perhaps you would be willing to trade.”

“What do you want in exchange?” Valanandir frowned.

“What I really want is the elf who stole my property, but I know you will not give him up. Not even for your precious daughter. Since I am in a magnanimous mood, I am willing to accept one of you instead. You have stood against me for too long. You have only a few moments to decide who it will be before your daughter dies. I’m on a tight schedule.”

The lord and lady clasped hands, sharing a moment of wordless communication.

“Don’t do it,” Silvaranwyn sobbed. She held her hands out to her parents, beseeching them. The sight of her was causing Golaron physical pain. Never in his life had he felt so powerless.

Saviadro gave her a shake. Silvaranwyn went limp. “Your time is up.”

The two elves turned to face him once more. “I will go,” Lord Valanandir said. He stepped across the threshold of the shield. One of the Forsworn took him into custody. “Now let her go!”

Golaron had a bad feeling. He pushed Lysandir’s hand away and started to run.

Saviadro chuckled. “Let her go? I think not. Fool! You just gave me two victims for the price of one.” He lifted Silvaranwyn by her hair. She hung limp in his grasp.

A wordless cry erupted from Golaron’s throat as he charged into the Fallen One. Saviadro let out a surprised grunt. Golaron’s sword burst into flame. Slamming into Saviadro was like diving into an endless void. The ground seemed to lurch beneath Golaron’s feet and his sword felt like ice in his hands. His fingers burned with it.

Silvaranwyn’s captor uttered a hideous screech before dropping her to the ground. She rolled off to the side.

From somewhere beyond his cold agony, Golaron heard Linwyn’s answering war cry. A sizzle of heat grazed him as a fireball struck Saviadro, giving Golaron a chance to disengage.

The air came alive with flame as Lysandir threw one attack after another. The three Forsworn Ones let out terrible screams.

Lord Valanandir wielded a blade a pure light, like the ones Silvaranwyn had conjured earlier. Silvaranwyn was standing next to Golaron, firing arrows that burst into flame. Linwyn’s blade had also come alive, sizzling. The air crackled with heat and Lysandir’s robes stirred in a warm breeze.

The five of them stood back to back in a circle, facing the minions of darkness. The final battle had begun.

–
Chapter Fifty-Three –

In the Eye of the Storm

Linwyn immersed herself in the battle. She knew it was dangerous to give in to the battle rage, but it was the only way she could reach Iarion. He was so close. He needed her now.

Linwyn had no illusions about her chances of survival in this fight. She only wanted to help him succeed before it was over. She became one with her flaming blade.

Beside her, Lysandir focused on Saviadro. Linwyn, Golaron, Silvaranwyn, and her father battled the three Forsworn Ones, struggling to keep the dark creatures at bay. The grass below their feet withered in the creatures’ foul presence. The touch of the Forsworn was cold and deadly, but it was their constant projection of despair that wore down their opponents.