Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (32 page)

Which was it? She had no way of knowing. The men spoke their own dialect, which she did not understand. Either way, they were in a hurry.

Their pace slowed, and the men stretched out in single file. Linwyn craned her neck in an effort to see where they were going, but it was too dark. Even the man she heard running directly behind her was invisible in the darkness. Several moments passed before she finally puzzled out where they must be.

The men ran along a narrow trail and huge, dark shadows loomed on both sides. First a river and now a mountain pass. These men were running toward the Upper Daran Nunadan. This was the Pass of Stars, which cut through the Mountains of Shadow. But why were they taking her away from their own territory? If anything, she had assumed she was either being brought to a nearby camp of dark creatures, or north, back to the Fallen One’s realm. A second realization hit her like a blow.

They were taking her to Nal Nungalid.

Although Linwyn was not afraid of the Forsworn, she had learned a healthy respect for them. What she feared was what she might confess while under their influence of despair, and what would become of her companions when they tried to rescue her.

If any of them were still alive.

Linwyn did not have long to ponder her revelation. The sound of ringing steel caught her attention. She would know the sound of a sword being drawn anywhere. She frowned. All the men of Hidar’s tribe bore spears.

A relay of orders traveled down the line of her captors and she was dumped on the ground to one side of the pass. Linwyn forced herself to remain limp. The man who had carried her reclaimed his spear from one of his companions and stood guard over her prone form.

For a moment, Linwyn dared to hope it was her friends come to rescue her. Yet deep down, she knew it could not be. The attack was coming from the wrong direction. Then she remembered. The Lord of Nal Huraseadro had said his men still watched the Pass of Stars. But their numbers had already been decimated by Saviadro’s army. Would those who had survived be enough to block the pass? The only thing she knew for certain was a battle would provide the distraction she needed if she was going to escape.

Linwyn remained immobile, peering out from under her lashes and waiting for her opportunity. One of the men from Nal Huraseadro broke through, making his way toward Linwyn’s captor.

The two men faced each other, spear against sword. Linwyn held her breath, silently urging her potential rescuer. They were evenly matched.

Linwyn whispered a curse. She would have to take matters into her own hands. She sat up and began to work on the bonds that held her feet. It took her a few moments, but eventually the rope fell away.

She looked around before rising to her feet. No one was watching her. She stepped up behind her guard, waiting for the right moment. But his opponent’s eyes flickered to look past him, alerting him to her movement. The guard held his spear in a defensive position and turned his head to look.

Linwyn shoved him, hard. Thrown off balance, he stumbled toward his attacker, who held his sword ready. He slid onto the blade with a sigh.

Something was wrong. The man who held the sword was clutching his stomach, his eyes wide. She stifled another curse. Her captor had somehow managed to move his spear as he fell forward, striking the Greater Man in the gut. He was as good as dead.

Linwyn mumbled an apology to her dying rescuer and pulled his sword free from the other man’s chest. She took a moment to cut the bonds that held her wrists, steadying the sword between her knees to do so before running eastward into the darkness.

She didn’t look back.

She had almost cleared the pass when she heard running footsteps on the rocks behind her. She risked a look over her shoulder.

It was one of Hidar’s tribe-mates. He called out behind him in his own tongue, revealing her location to the others.

She was so close! She just could make out the entrance to the pass. If she could get out into the open, she stood a chance of making a clean escape. The narrow trail provided no place to hide.

Linwyn ran toward freedom in a burst of speed, fueled by fear. Her braids streamed through the air behind her. But the man was fast. He was catching up. Linwyn could feel him gaining on her.

She risked another look back and saw him raising the butt of his spear out of the corner of her eye. He was going to try to knock her unconscious.

Linwyn came to a sudden stop and turned to face him, forcing him to pull his blow. She gave him a grim smile as she brought up her ill-gotten sword. His task would be more difficult. He was supposed to take her as a live captive, while she had no scruples about killing him.

He ducked her first blow. The sword whistled through the air where his head had been a moment before. Linwyn knew she had to be quick. She could hear others running to join their tribe-mate. She threw herself at him in a wild fury, but he managed to bring up his spear to block each of her attacks.

The others were getting closer.

Linwyn abruptly switched her strategy. She used a double-feint to confuse her opponent. He didn’t fall for the first feint, but he was fooled by the second. As he brought his spear up to block the blow he thought was coming, Linwyn switched the angle of her sword at the last possible moment, driving it deep into his chest.

Linwyn did not wait to watch the man die. She pulled the sword free and began to run once more. The others were close behind her now. She pushed past her fear and exhaustion and ran as fast as she could.

The mouth of the pass was near. Linwyn pumped her tired legs as fast as they could go, panting with exertion. She ignored her pounding head and parched throat. The entrance to the pass swam in her vision.

In the end, her body betrayed her. Exhaustion hit her like a wall. The world spun and her legs buckled. Linwyn stumbled.

It was all her captors needed. She tried to hold them off with wild swings of her sword, but her arms felt like lead, her armor suddenly heavy.

The men surrounded her and to her shame, Linwyn fell to the ground of her own accord, unable to hold herself upright any longer. A wave of bitterness washed over her as she was bound once more, unable to struggle. The butt of a spear rushed toward her temple.

When the darkness came, she welcomed it.

–
Chapter Thirty-One –

Dark Dreams

Iarion opened his eyes. He had been sleeping off and on since the battle. He was still recovering from his encounter with the Forbidden Pool. The sun was sinking below the mountains behind them. A day had passed since he and Barlo had gotten separated from the others. Sinstari was curled up against his back.

Iarion sat up and rubbed at his face. His skin was gritty with unwashed blood, sweat, and dirt. He could hear the sound of water nearby. Beside him, Barlo was snoring. Iarion smiled. The dwarf was probably exhausted from keeping watch over him with only Sinstari to aid him. Iarion stood up slowly, stretching his stiff limbs, and crept toward the promise of water. The wildcat gave him a look before resettling into a more comfortable position.

The water wasn’t far. It was a small stream, the southernmost of the Forgotten Streams. Iarion lowered his head and cupped his hands to splash the water on his face and hair. Dried blood and gore was embedded under his fingernails. He pulled out his knife and used its tip to scrape it out, feeling compelled to remove all traces of the battle from his body.

The water was cold, but clean. It moved sluggishly toward the sea. But when Iarion brought his cupped hand to his lips to drink, he spat the liquid out onto the ground. The water smelled fresh, but it tasted bitter. It had the same tang as the water of the Forbidden Pool. And why not? The Forbidden Pool fed the Nightrush River, which in turn fed the Forgotten Streams. Iarion backed away, feeling soiled anew.

“Well you’re up, I see,” Barlo said. He saw Iarion’s expression and frowned. “What is it?”

“The water. It comes from the Forbidden Pool. I almost drank it.” Iarion could not seem to tear his eyes from the stream.

“Well that’s good to know. At least we still have good water in our skins.” Barlo passed one to Iarion. “Can you talk about it yet?”

Iarion knew Barlo meant the Forbidden Pool. He sat and took a long pull from the waterskin. He tossed it back to Barlo and began to work his fingers through his tangled hair.

“It showed me things,” he said in a quiet voice. “Terrible things.”

“But Lysandir said it would mix the truth with lies, so it couldn’t all be bad.”

“It was.”

“Well, maybe it would help to talk about it.” Barlo was watching Iarion closely.

Iarion sighed. “I saw Saviadro and his Forsworn attacking Melaquenya with their army. It was a terrible battle. All the Free Races were there making a last stand, but it was useless. They couldn’t stand against him. He took the forest and had the
Linadar
slaughtered. I saw them all die, even Valanandir and Iadrawyn.” Iarion closed his eyes in remembered pain. “We were all there, trying to stop Saviadro from reaching the Quenya before I rejoined it with the Stariquenya. I saw everyone from our quest die. Even you, Barlo. You will all die so I have a chance of succeeding. You die for me!” Iarion’s voice broke.

“Does it work? Do you reunite the Quenya?”

Iarion shook his head in disbelief. How could Barlo worry about the success of the quest after what he had just told him?

“I don’t know. That’s when I woke up. Anyway, aren’t you listening? I just said you’re all going to die!”

Barlo shrugged. “So? It might be true, but then again, it might not. For all we know, we could be the only surviving members of our group right now. Anyway, if our roles were reversed, and I told you what you just told me, would you give up?”

Iarion frowned. “No.”

“Well, there you go. We already knew the chances of our success were slim. I knew before I left Dwarvenhome this might be my last journey. I chose to come because this is important. Besides, I knew you would need someone you could trust to watch your back. So don’t go trying to persuade me to let you go off alone because you’ve had some terrible vision that may or may not be true.” Barlo wagged his finger at him. Iarion bit his lip.

“You were going to do it, weren’t you?” Barlo’s expression became incredulous. “You were going to try to talk me out of staying with you! And if I didn’t agree, you probably would have crept off during the night, wouldn’t you?”

Iarion flushed, feeling sheepish. “It had crossed my mind, yes.”

“You damn fool of an elf. I would only have followed you, you know.”

Iarion smirked. “Dwarves aren’t especially known for their tracking skills, especially when their quarry is a Wood Elf.”

Barlo waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s beside the point. What’s important is I would have tried to follow you anyway.”

“And probably managed to get yourself either lost or killed.”

“Then it would be on your conscience, Iarion. So don’t do anything foolish.” Barlo held his gaze until Iarion was forced to look away.

The elf sighed. “Very well. It seems I am stuck with you. I can’t say I’m disappointed. I just don’t want to lead you to your death.”

“That’s my choice. I’ve already made peace with it.”

“And what about Narilga and the children?” Iarion’s eyes narrowed.

“Narilga knows I might not come back. She understands my place right now is with you. If the worst should happen, she’ll care for the children and be my voice as Chief of Clans until Khalid is old enough. It’s all been planned for.” Now it was Barlo’s turn to look away.

“As long as you’re certain,” Iarion pressed.

“My choice has been made. Promise you won’t ask me again.”

Iarion smiled. “I promise.” A moment of silence followed.

Barlo cleared his throat. “So what now? As I said, we don’t know where the others are, or whether they’re still alive.”

“You’re right. We could go back and try to find them or their trail. But it would be difficult on a battlefield. And other tribes may be looking for us.” Iarion looked off into the distance to the south.

“You want to leave them behind.” Barlo frowned.

“I think they stand a better chance of survival on their own. Besides, splitting up will confuse our enemies.” Iarion shrugged.

Barlo gnawed on his bearded lower lip as he considered. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. Golaron, Linwyn, and Hidar can take care of themselves. Golaron will take care of Silvaranwyn. I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

“Silvaranwyn is fairly good at taking care of herself,” Iarion said.

“All right!” Barlo threw up his hands in defeat. “You’ve persuaded me to abandon our loyal companions. So now what? We need to go south, but the Daran Falnun is filled with Lesser Men, who are probably hunting for us. Plus, that’s where the others are. We can’t very well try to leave them behind by traveling in the same direction.”

“We must choose a path no one will suspect.” Iarion closed his eyes in thought before opening them to look up at the darkening sky.

A lone gull flew overhead. Iarion gave a trilling whistle. The gull banked and flew toward them. Iarion gave a command to Sinstari that would keep the cat still.

The bird swooped down to land on Iarion’s outstretched arm, cocking its head with interest. Barlo watched in surprised silence as Iarion whistled and chirped at the gull. Iarion focused on the task at hand. Once he had completed his message, the bird squawked its response before taking flight once more. Iarion watched it soar eastward until it disappeared from sight.

When it became clear Iarion wasn’t going to volunteer any explanation, Barlo broke the silence.

“What was that all about?”

“Tomorrow we move our camp down to the beach.” Iarion gave Barlo an enigmatic smile. “I’ve called in a favor from some old friends.”

–
Chapter Thirty-Two –

Decisions