Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (44 page)

The elf maiden looked up as he approached. Her silver eyes seemed to pass right through his flesh, piercing him to the core. They were filled with sympathy and sorrow.

“I am sorry for the loss of your father,” she said. “Is your sister all right?”

“As all right as she can be,” Golaron said, raking a hand through his dark hair. It needed to be rebraided. “She will lead the army south.”

Silvaranwyn’s expression showed a deep understanding. She had probably known all along about Linwyn’s feelings for Iarion.

“You don’t have to come, you know,” he said. “This will be an all-out war. If you come with us, you might have to kill again.”

“I am coming.” Her voice was soft, but determined.

“I thought you could not return to Melaquenya. You should stay here, where it is safe.”

“My return will be brief. It is necessary for the quest.” She gave him another look. “No place in Lasniniar is safe. Do you ask me to stay behind for my benefit, or yours?”

Golaron looked away. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all. I don’t think I could bear it.”

“And I would be grieved if anything should happen to you.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Golaron, I have seen it. My place is with you.”

Surprised, Golaron met her eyes. He felt his throat tighten. “What are you saying?”

“Our lives are intertwined, along with the Quenya. I was meant to leave my people to live at your side.”

Even though he had fantasized about this moment, Golaron shook his head in disbelief. “But I am only a man. You will outlive me.”

“My lifespan has been shortened by my choice to fade. I may outlive you, but not by much.” Her eyes were sad.

“You will die alone!” Golaron closed his eyes, picturing it. His daydreams of a future with her suddenly seemed selfish. “I cannot let you do this.”

“I will not be alone.” Silvaranwyn smiled. “I will be with our children, and our children’s children.”

Golaron swallowed the lump in his throat. “Do you even care for me?”

“In my own way, yes. You are a kind and noble man.”

Golaron pulled away, despite his temptation. “But you only do this because it is what is demanded of you!”

“That is not true. I do care for you, Golaron. Do you not care for me?” She looked anguished.

“You know I do. How could you even ask that?”

“Then this is the way it must be.”

“No!” Golaron forced himself to lower his voice. “I will not have you simply to fulfill some destiny.”

“But you must!” Silvaranwyn’s eyes filled with tears. “If you care for me, you will. Because if you do not accept this, I will be doomed to wander Lasniniar until the end of time, unable to return to my people and unable to die. That is the fate that awaits me if I do not fulfill my destiny. Golaron, the Quenya wants us to be together for a reason. Please, I need you to accept it. If you truly care for me, you will save me from this future.”

Her words hit him like a blow. He pictured her wandering the land, miserable and alone. The thought of him being the author of her permanent misery was more than he could bear.

It was an impossible decision. There was no doubt she was what he wanted. He only wished it were under different circumstances. Perhaps with time, she would learn to love him the way he loved her. She had already suffered so much for the fate of their world. She deserved better. But it seemed this was all he could give her. It was a bittersweet moment.

Golaron sighed and took her hand in his. “I will do as you wish. It is not as I would want it, but I would do anything for you.”

Silvaranwyn smiled. “Thank you.”

–
Chapter Forty-Five –

A Desperate Plan

Iarion traveled with Barlo and Sinstari at his side, lost in his thoughts. As time went on, it became increasingly difficult for him to focus on anything other than the completion of his task. He could feel the weight of the Stariquenya in his pack. In the back of his mind it called to him, begging to be released.

Iarion knew such a thing should not be possible from within the confines of the Levniquenya, but the corrupted power had grown strong and independent under Saviadro’s hand. He wondered what would happen when it rejoined the rest of the Quenya.

He knew he and Barlo were running out of time. Saviadro’s army might already be marching toward Melaquenya. Iarion could only hope such a large force would be disorganized and slow. It was the only chance he had of getting past it. Lord Eranander would try to keep the dark army pinned down at the Narrow Pass, but Iarion knew it was possible he might have already failed. The visions of the Forbidden Pool had shown him as much.

The wheels of Iarion’s mind continued to turn as the dense trees of Melaralva appeared in the distance. The sun was beginning to creep over the eastern horizon, turning the sky a pale pink.

He knew Barlo was worried about him. He wished there was something he could say to comfort his friend, but his words would only belie his actions. Iarion had given himself over to this quest. In addition to saving Lasniniar, it was the one thing that might help him discover his destiny.

With that thought in mind he quickened his pace, forgetting to look back to see whether Barlo was keeping up.

Hours later, Iarion, Barlo, and Sinstari forded the Slipstream River and arrived at the border of the forest. The breeze sighed among the ancient trees, which towered overhead.

The slumbering timelessness of the Wood Elves’ domain was deceiving. Although they met no challenge, Iarion knew they were being watched. If they had been identified as strangers, they would have been stopped before crossing the river. As they stepped under the shade of the ancient oaks, an elf with a bow approached.

“Welcome, Iarion,” he greeted in Elvish. “It is good you have returned. Dark things are happening in the south. Your dwarf friend is also welcome.”

“Thank you,” Iarion said. “We bring dark news of our own. Are Lord Alfiaeras and Lady Melalynia holding audience yet? I must speak with them.”

“The lord and lady are not here. They have gone south. Lady Golalfia is holding audience in their stead. You will find her already in the glade.”

Iarion frowned. “I will speak with her then. May your watch be peaceful.”

Iarion turned to leave only to bump into Sinstari. He shook himself. He had forgotten the cat and Barlo were there. Barlo gave him an impatient look.

“Well?” the dwarf demanded.

Iarion cocked his head to one side in confusion. “Well what?”

“What’s going on? I don’t know Elvish! You’d think you had forgotten or something.”

Iarion, winced, chagrined. What was happening to him? “I am sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

“It has been for hours now!” Barlo grumbled, tugging at his beard. “And it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. It’s like you forget I’m even here.”

“I’m sorry. I will try to be better about it.”

Barlo narrowed his eyes. “So?”

Iarion sighed. “What?”

Barlo crossed his arms. “So what were you two talking about?”

“Oh, yes. Well, I was asking if we could see the lord and lady of my people, but the scout said they had gone south. Their daughter, Golalfia, is ruling in their absence.”

“Another daughter?” Barlo gnawed at his beard. “You haven’t flirted or slept with this one, have you?”

“No!” Iarion was shocked at the suggestion. “She is a princess of my own people! I watched her grow up. If anything, I’m like an uncle to her.”

Barlo gave him a suspicious look. “We’ll see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well everywhere else we’ve gone, it seems you’ve become quite the wandering philanderer. The ladies all seem taken with the idea of an immortal elf, traveling the land in search of his soul. Silvaranwyn appears to be the only one immune to your unique charm. The rest of them seem to think it’s very romantic. Why should this one be any different?”

Iarion felt himself flush at Barlo’s words. “Well it isn’t like that here!” Barlo rolled his eyes in response. Iarion turned on his heel and led them deeper into the forest.

He led them to the heart of Melaralva, to the lord and lady’s glade. Iarion could hear the rushing waters of the Rillar close by, but otherwise, the forest seemed unnaturally silent.

Golalfia sat on her mother’s throne, her long, chestnut hair cascading over its back. She was listening to the report of one of her scouts. Her green eyes looked up to meet Iarion’s. Iarion had forgotten how striking she was. She finished listening to the scout and sent him off to refresh himself. Once he was gone, she rose, smoothing the front of her deep green kirtle.

“Greetings, Iarion.” Her eyes sparkled. “It is good you have returned to us.” She switched to the Common Tongue. “And you, Barlo. You are always welcome in our wood.”

Iarion and Barlo approached and bowed. Golalfia sat and gave a start as her eyes passed over Sinstari.

“Who is this new friend?” she asked.

“This is Sinstari,” Iarion said. “He was gifted to me by the
Beliadar
.” The cat sat at Iarion’s side.

“You have been gone for some time now,” the elf maiden said. “Tell me, have you found what you seek?” Her gaze was piercing.

“I believe I am on the right path. We went to the
Linadar
to seek their guidance.” Golalfia nodded at Iarion’s words. This was not news to her. Iarion gave her a broad outline of what had passed since his visit to Melaquenya, unsure how much her parents had told her.

“Forgive me for not telling you our tale in full,” he said afterward. “Time is of the essence. What you need to know is Numarin is a traitor, Feoras has been compromised, and I bear the Stariquenya. Lysandir may be at Saviadro’s side, but he remains loyal to us. Now we are trying to reach Melaquenya before Saviadro’s army does.” Iarion let his breath out in a rush and waited to see how Golalfia would respond.

“Then I am afraid you are already too late.” Her expression was pained. “Many weeks ago, we received your message from a
Sintadain
scout that Belierumar was in danger of falling. As you already know, my mother and father gathered an army of our finest warriors and went north with an army of Earth Elves. Although they helped keep the city in friendly hands, the dark army still lurked in the Southern Passage after your group’s departure, waiting for something.

“Perhaps a week ago, the dark army attacked once more, led by two Forsworn Ones. We assumed they would try to take the city as before. Instead, they marched past it, heading for the Narrow Pass. By the time everyone realized what was happening, it was too late to stop them. Saviadro’s army is now in the Adar Daran, camped on the northern border of Melaquenya. Two more Forsworn Ones have joined them.”

Iarion felt the blood drain from his face. Were they really too late?

“Most likely they wait for the arrival of the rest of the Forsworn, and perhaps even Saviadro himself,” Golalfia continued. “Our own army and that of the Earth Elves joined the armies of Dwarvenhome, Belierumar, and Dwarfhaven. But Saviadro has combined all his forces for this battle. Even with our joined armies, we are greatly outnumbered.

“Our forces have followed the dark army through the Narrow Pass, and now they watch and wait, trying to find a way to stop what is about to happen. So you see, even though you have the Stariquenya, an entire army stands between you and your goal.”

Iarion’s heart sank. Was there nothing to be done? His mind refused to wrap itself around the possibility.

“It’s all right, Iarion,” Barlo said, reaching up to give him a pat on the back. “You did everything you could. It’s out of our hands now.”

“No, it isn’t.” Iarion looked down at his friend. “As long as I have the Stariquenya, we have some measure of control, but only until Saviadro seizes the rest of the Quenya. We must act now, before it’s too late.”

“But what can we possibly do? There are only two of us!” Sinstari growled. “Well, three, if you count the cat. Still, what can we do against an army of that size? They have four Forsworn Ones, Iarion. Four! And we both know it’s only a matter of time before the other three and their master show up. This is too important for the rest of them to miss it. How can we go up against those odds and expect to succeed? It’s suicide. We might as well hand the Stariquenya over to Saviadro right now.”

Iarion clenched his fists. “We have to change the odds to make them in our favor. There has to be a way!” He forced himself to consider every alternative. A wild surge of hope filled his chest.

“My lady, do you have any messengers that can reach our army?”

“Yes. I was given use of a
Sintadain
scout to act as messenger if needed.”

“We need to send a message telling our army to engage the enemy.”

“Iarion,” Barlo said, “you heard her describe the situation. There’s no way we can win!”

“Not if we attack head on, no. But if our forces use hit-and-run tactics, they could do a fair bit of damage. Saviadro’s army is made up of creatures bred for chaos. The only thing holding them together is the presence of the Forsworn. If our army can lure them into battle and create some confusion, we stand a chance.” The words tumbled out of Iarion’s mouth.