Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (49 page)

“We became separated in the northlands. We do not know where she is.”

A sad expression flashed across the elf’s features. “You must run for Eraquenya. The lord and lady hold the glade. We have managed to dispel the cloud that gave shelter to the dark creatures, but you do not have much time. The Fallen One is coming.” Iarion felt a silent dread building within him at the elf’s words, like a storm on the horizon.

The elf’s golden eyes suddenly grew wide. “He comes now. You must flee!”

Iarion didn’t need to be told again. He grabbed Barlo’s arm and yanked him along behind him, ignoring his curses of protest.

“Hey! You don’t need to do that. You had time for a nice little chat and now you’re in a rush. What did he say?” Barlo pulled his arm free to trot alongside him.

Above them the sky grew dark once more. Iarion felt as though he had walked off the edge of a cliff to be plunged into the heart of despair. He stumbled and fell. He rolled for a moment before skidding to a stop. From what seemed like a long distance, he heard Barlo’s groan of comprehension, followed by some rustling and a thump.

Iarion could feel blades of grass under his hands, but his vision had gone completely black. He knew his eyes were open, but they could not penetrate this darkness. He felt himself start to tremble.

It was over. It had been hopeless from the start. He had been a fool. Now he was leaving hope behind, forever. Such a waste. He felt cold, devoid of any emotion but anguish. If he could somehow gain control of his shaking hands and find his knife in the darkness, he would end this torment.

Something cool and moist brushed the back of his hand. Whiskers tickled his face. It was Sinstari. Iarion pushed the cat away, but he only returned. Iarion could just make out his green eyes.

Something stirred within him. He was so close… If he gave up now, he might never know the joy of communing with the Quenya, and Lasniniar as he knew it would be no more. His soul would be forever lost. People had given their lives to help him succeed. They were counting on him. He was their only hope. No matter what, he had to go on.

Iarion forced himself to his knees. Sinstari sat before him. His green eyes were all Iarion could see. Iarion forced himself to focus on those twin beacons of light. He slowed his breathing and stopped his trembling. Warmth returned to his body, suffusing his limbs. As he gazed into the cat’s eyes, the darkness around him faded until he could see the trees once more. The sky was dark and the shadows long, but he was still in the world of the living.

Barlo lay on the ground in a daze. Iarion shook him, calling his name. The dwarf was ice-cold to the touch. Sinstari leaned over him, snuffling his face for several moments. Finally, Barlo sat up, pushing the cat away.

“Get off me, you foolish beast!”

Iarion helped his friend to his feet. When they had fallen, they had landed deep in some bushes. Iarion froze. Something was wrong. Outside the bushes, the ground was heavily trampled. The foul stench of dark creatures lingered in the air.

The borders of Melaquenya had been breached. Saviadro’s presence had overwhelmed the
Linadar
. Iarion saw the corpse of a Light Elf, surrounded by dead goblins and a few ogres. His golden eyes had gone dull and seemed almost defiled by the presence of death. Iarion couldn’t help but be reminded of Silvaranwyn.

The broken body of a winged
Sintadain
lay nearby. Iarion’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. If the other elves had been incapacitated like Iarion and Barlo, the invasion would have been slaughter. It was only luck that had caused him and Barlo to land in the bushes, where they had gone unnoticed. He checked his pack to reassure himself. The Levniquenya was still there.

Iarion drew his bow, nocking an arrow. “Come on. We’ve got to keep moving. We’ve to get to the Quenya. The lord and lady are holding the glade, but they can’t hold it forever.”

Barlo nodded, gripping his ax. Iarion led the way. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they found the enemy. Saviadro would have instructed the dark creatures to position themselves along the river between Iarion and his goal until he and his Forsworn could arrive. Although the Fallen One would be mounted on a drake, Iarion suspected the
Sintadar
would do everything they could to delay him and the Forsworn.

Sure enough, Iarion saw a goblin on the path ahead, waiting. It wasn’t alone. Iarion sighted and let his arrow fly. It sunk deep into the creature’s throat. Iarion already had his next arrow ready. This one pierced an ogre in the eye. He fired again and again. For each arrow, a creature fell dead.

He had gotten their attention now. A large group rushed toward them, roaring in outrage. Iarion, Barlo, and Sinstari ran to meet them. Iarion put his bow away and drew his knife as he ran. He fought as though possessed. Images of the dead
Linadar
were burned into his mind.

Soon he was covered in gore. The blood ran up to his elbows and spattered his face, getting into his eyes. Barlo and Sinstari didn’t hold back either, staying beside him every step he took closer to their goal.

As they carved their bloody path southward, Iarion could hear the rushing waters of the Rillin. They were close. His muscles burned with fatigue. He licked his stinging, split lip and tasted blood that wasn’t his. Barlo had a long gash on his cheek, and part of Sinstari’s ear was missing. Still, they fought on.

Only a few more creatures stood between Iarion and the river. He wasted no time getting them out of his way. With a slash to the throat, the last creature fell to the ground, its dark blood spurting everywhere.

Even though they had found a way through, there were still many dark creatures remaining. Iarion could hear more coming from the trees behind them. They had to hurry. If they didn’t make it across the river soon, they would be overwhelmed. Iarion looked back to make certain his friends were still with him before stepping into the water. It swirled around his ankles.

“Iarion,” a familiar voice called. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Iarion looked up. For the first time, he noticed a string of ships in the water, blocking the river. He had been so focused on the battle, he hadn’t seen them. They were
Rasadar
ships. He took in the sight, searching for the speaker. Silver and sapphire eyes met churning blue. Beside him, Barlo groaned.

It was Feoras.

–
Chapter Fifty –

The Final Betrayal

Iarion, Barlo, and Sinstari stood at the edge of the swirling water, frozen in shock. Out of the corner of his eye, Iarion could see the remaining dark creatures closing in on them from behind. They were trapped. Some of the goblins began to laugh.

Iarion could not comprehend it. Not only was Feoras a Learnéd One, sworn to protect the Free Peoples of Lasniniar, but he was a close friend of the
Rasadar
. Where Numarin had held himself apart from the races, Feoras loved the Sea Elves as though they were his own children. How could he do such a thing and irrevocably seal their fate?

Saviadro’s promise of non-interference with the
Rasadar
might hold in the short term, but for the elves to live in a world where the Quenya was held hostage was a fate worse than death.

Feoras shook his head. “You should have tried to find your friends, Iarion. You cannot hope to beat Saviadro and his army on your own.”

Iarion ignored Feoras’s words and focused on the figure standing next to him. Iarion knew he recognized the ship. The elf standing with Feoras was its captain, Alfiabalas. His betrayal hit Iarion like a physical blow.

“You too, Alfiabalas?” Iarion called out in Elvish. The
Rasadain
’s blue-green eyes met his.

“Feoras and my lord and lady finally came to an agreement,” he said. “We hold the river now. We will suffer no intruders.”

Alfiabalas turned and raised his arm. A host of
Rasadar
appeared on the decks of the ships. He and Feoras had brought an entire army with them. They stood ready in their fish mail armor, with their barbed arrows nocked and aimed toward the shore.

“Alfiabalas, please!” Iarion tried once more to make the elf see reason. “You know the consequences of what you are about to do. You cannot do this!”

“I have my orders. I am doing what I must. There is nothing more to say.”

Iarion could feel the dark creatures behind them drawing closer, preparing to strike. His entire body trembled with exhaustion. Barlo and Sinstari were in no better shape. Still, Iarion gripped his knife, determined to go down fighting.

“Well, I guess this is it,” he said to Barlo.

“I take it you can’t persuade him to change his mind,” Barlo said while keeping his eyes on the dark creatures surrounding them. “I told you. You should have bedded the sisters. Ah well. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be taking some of these foul creatures with me. The cat still looks to have some fight left in him too. I only wish I could see Narilga and the children one last time.”

“I’m sorry, Barlo. I should never have dragged you into this mess, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“It’s been a real adventure, Iarion. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” The closest goblin stepped forward, knife in hand.

“Here we go,” Iarion whispered.

He turned to face the threat just as he saw Alfiabalas lower his arm to signal the
Rasadar
attack. Arrows flew through the air. Iarion ignored them, knowing there was nothing he could do. He only focused on the immediate threats surrounding him.

He was surprised when the goblin closest to him fell to its knees with an arrow in its throat. It belonged to one of the Sea Elf archers. An elf would never miss a shot like that at this range. Iarion hesitated. Around him, other dark creatures fell, slain by
Rasadar
arrows. He, Barlo, and Sinstari remained unharmed.

Iarion shook himself and continued to fight those who got close enough. The dark creatures seemed equally confused about this turn of events. They continued to rush toward their prey, not realizing what was happening until it was too late. Only a few had the good sense to flee.

The water behind Iarion and his companions surged to life as Feoras raised his arms. Any creature that got close enough to strike them was swallowed by an unnatural wave. None of them resurfaced. In a matter of moments, an intense silence filled the forest. Every last dark creature in the area was dead.

Iarion turned to face the line of ships, unsure what to think. A small boat was already approaching them, rowed by Alfiabalas. Feoras sat beside him. Barlo still held his ax ready, wearing a perplexed expression.

“What in the name of the First Father is going on?”Alfiabalas rowed the boat to the bank beside them. “Please, you must get in. Time is growing short.” He spoke in the Common Tongue.

“Just what are you playing at?” Barlo demanded, looking skeptical.

“We will explain as we ferry you across,” Feoras said. “There is no time for delay.”

Barlo looked to Iarion, who shrugged. What choice did they have? After splashing his face to rinse the mud and grime, he climbed into the boat and turned to help Sinstari and Barlo. The cat followed him without hesitation. Barlo however, was another story.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting me in one of those again. Especially not without any potion to settle my stomach.” The dwarf looked green at the thought.

“Barlo, it’s only to get across the river,” Iarion said. “You’ve done it before. It’s nothing like the sea. You didn’t come this far to abandon me now, did you?”

“I suppose not. But if I lose my lunch all over you, I don’t want to be hearing any complaints.” Barlo clambered aboard after rinsing himself clean. “Dwarves in boats. It’s unnatural.”

Once everyone was settled, Alfiabalas began to row. Feoras turned to face them.

“I suppose an explanation is in order,” he said. Barlo muttered something under his breath. Feoras silenced him with a look. “After you left Rasdaria, I thought long and hard on what you had to say. I also sent my gulls to scout the land, seeking proof of your tale. What they saw only confirmed it. I realized the situation was not as hopeless as I had thought.

“I was selfish to give in to Saviadro and bargain the lives of the
Rasadar
without their knowledge. I only wanted to keep them safe. I now realize by doing so, I was only sentencing them and the rest of Lasniniar to a worse fate. For that, I am deeply sorry. I can only hope it is not too late for me to redeem myself.”

“After I dropped you off on the mainland, I began to spread word of what was happening among my people.” Alfiabalas spoke between strokes. “Many went to Mar Ras to petition the lord and lady to allow our involvement in the coming war. At first, the lord and lady resisted, not wanting to send their people off to die in a faraway place. But it seems their daughters can be most persuasive.” He gave Iarion a wink. Iarion couldn’t help but smile.

“In short, we are here to help you,” Feoras said. “We hold the river against the dark army. Saviadro must cross the Rillin to reach the Quenya. Lord Valanandir and Lady Iadrawyn are using all their remaining power to shield Eraquenya. Even from the air on his drake, Saviadro may not approach the glade. He had hoped to capture you here. He thought we were holding the river for him. I am afraid it won’t be long before he learns he was mistaken. He will be most displeased.”

“I am sorry about the deception,” Alfiabalas said. “We needed you to believe we had betrayed you so the dark creatures would be convinced. If they had sensed anything amiss, they would have fled, drawing the attention of the Fallen One. We needed them to come willingly within range of our bows.”

“In this case, I think we can forgive you.” Iarion allowed some of his relief to seep into his voice.