Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (9 page)

“Everything is fine,” Iarion announced. “Just a misunderstanding.” Barlo’s expression became relieved. Iarion had just finished speaking when Lysandir descended the southern stairs. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

“I do not like what we have found.” The Learnéd One sat beside them on the floor. “Nothing has been taken and the doors were sealed when we arrived. What concerns me is I do not know the reason for Numarin’s departure. From the mess he left, he was agitated about something. He has not been seen for months. He could be anywhere.”

“What are we going to do?” Linwyn asked.

“Although I would like to search for him, we do not have the time.” Lysandir chewed his lip and sighed. “All we can do is ask for news of him as we travel north, and keep our eyes open. Hopefully we will find some trace of his passage. The hawk did indicate he was traveling north.”

“Do we leave now?” Barlo asked.

“We should wait for the cover of darkness. Saviadro’s creatures do not even seem to fear daylight anymore. We need to go through the Narrow Pass and across the Lower Daran Nunadan to reach Belierumar. By nightfall, we have the better chance of slipping past unnoticed.”

“And what about the goblins that attacked Iarion when he traveled the pass by night?” Barlo said.

“Iarion killed most of them,” Lysandir said. “The rest have most likely either moved south and were a part of the force that attacked us on the way here, or have moved north to join the larger force that will attack Belierumar. There might be scouts watching the pass, but other than that, I expect to find it empty.”

“We had no trouble coming through the pass on our way here,” Linwyn said.

“In any event, we should rest here until nightfall,” Lysandir said. “I do not think anyone would be able to breach the tower, but we should take turns watching the surrounding area from the northern spire.”

The others murmured their assent and took a few moments to work out their shifts. Iarion drew the final watch. Barlo got the first. The dwarf climbed up the stairs.

“We should rest,” the Learnéd One said as he settled into a comfortable position. “We might have to fight our way across the Lower Daran Nunadan to reach Belierumar.”

Hours later, Iarion watched the sun sink below the horizon. Its vanishing light bled across the western sky. No creature had been seen near Mar Arin during any of the watches. Iarion mistrusted the quiet. He was reluctant to travel the Narrow Pass by nightfall again. Twice in his long life he had been ambushed there. He hoped this time would be different. He went down to the main hall to wake the others.

Lysandir was already packed. “Any news?”

Iarion shook his head. “Nothing.”

The others were soon ready to leave the protection of Mar Arin. Lysandir sealed the doors behind them. By this time, the sun had disappeared behind the western horizon and darkness covered the land. Linwyn and Golaron collected their mounts, which they had left tethered outside the tower. The twins chose not to ride, leading their horses as they walked with the others. Lysandir took them east along the Traitor’s Road. Iarion tilted his head, mulling over their situation.

“May I borrow one of your mounts?” he asked the twins. “I want to scout ahead.”

“I will go,” Linwyn said, already placing her foot in the stirrup and preparing to mount.

“Forgive me, but you do not have the eyes of an elf,” Iarion said. “Although I do not doubt your bravery or prowess in battle, I can see much better in the dark than you.”

Linwyn still seemed ready to protest, but her brother silenced her with a look.

“You may take Vanyar.” Golaron held out the reins to his dappled gray gelding.

“My thanks,” Iarion said. He was grateful it was Golaron’s horse that was offered. Linwyn’s chestnut mare was fiery and skittish, similar to its rider in temperament. Iarion took the reins from Golaron and proceeded to undo the fastenings of the bridle. He slid it off the horse’s head and began to work on the girth of the saddle.

“What are you doing?” Linwyn demanded.

“I don’t need these things to ride him.” Iarion gave Vanyar a pat on the neck and let the horse give him a good sniff. “I also don’t need all these buckles jangling if I am to do any sort of scouting job.”

Linwyn seemed offended by this for some reason and stood back to watch him with a scowl. Golaron helped Iarion finish removing the saddle, placing it on Linwyn’s mare with Iarion’s pack. The chestnut gave a snort of disgust at the added weight and rolled her eyes to give her mistress a plaintive look. Iarion smothered a laugh and vaulted onto Vanyar’s back. The gelding went rigid for a moment, but soon calmed at Iarion’s soothing, Elvish mutterings.

“I will wait for you at the entrance to the pass,” Iarion said to the rest of the group. Lysandir nodded his approval.

“I don’t like this,” Barlo grumbled. “I should go with you. You don’t have the best of luck when it comes to that pass.”

“I don’t think this is the best time for you to learn how to ride, Barlo.” Iarion smiled down at his friend.

“Well, be careful then! Narilga will be put out with me if she finds out I let you wander that pass alone and you got hurt again.”

“I will be as careful as I can.” Iarion nudged Vanyar’s sides with his heels and was off.

Vanyar’s hooves pounded the dirt road as Iarion headed east. He kept his eyes and ears open for any sign of the Marred Races, but he met no one. The night breeze ran through his long, silver hair as he clung to the horse’s mane. It had been too long since he had last ridden. He eventually turned north toward the Jagged Mountains, slowing Vanyar to a halt. He dismounted and gave the horse a command in Elvish to stay put. Vanyar snorted and bowed his head.

Iarion continued toward the pass on foot, blending in with the shadow of the mountains. Memories of his previous journey washed over him. He drew his knife from his belt, holding it low and ready as he continued his silent advance.

Iarion’s eyes swept the bare rock of the pass for any sign of a hidden force. He saw nothing. He strained his ears to listen for any loose stones shuffled by enemy feet. The only sound was the evening breeze. He moved forward with all his senses alert, hugging the eastern mountainside as he crept forward. When no rain of goblin arrows came from the shadows, Iarion breathed a sigh of relief. He was alone. Still, they could be waiting at the other end of the pass. He didn’t want any surprises while he and his companions would be in such a confined space.

About half an hour later, Iarion cleared the pass. He encountered no one. It was a nerve-racking experience, waiting for an attack that never came. Now he wanted to see what lay to the north in the Lower Daran Nunadan.

Iarion’s heart sank. Belierumar was already surrounded by enemy campfires. It was not an overwhelming force, but it was significant. The dark army would probably wait for reinforcements to arrive from the north before attacking. Their presence would make reaching the city difficult for Iarion and his companions. It also indicated a prolonged siege.

The potential delay gnawed at Iarion. The logical part of him knew he might need Linwyn and Golaron’s help to complete his quest. For that to happen, they had to help liberate Belierumar. How could a company of six accomplish such a thing? He turned around and headed back for the southern entrance of the pass to meet the others.

Iarion did not have long to wait. His companions arrived just after he made it back to Vanyar’s side. The horse nickered in greeting. The others seemed glad to see him. Barlo gave him a relieved smile.

“No arrow wounds?” he asked.

“The pass is clear,” Iarion said. “But the Lower Daran Nunadan is not. It seems the goblins moved north from the Adar Daran after all.”

“One thing at a time,” Lysandir said. “We still need to travel the pass. We should all have a look at this enemy force before we start to worry.”

The Learnéd One gave them a moment for Golaron to re-saddle his horse. Iarion helped him. Linwyn seemed to be struggling between disappointment and admiration at seeing that Iarion had not fallen off or had any other mishaps while riding Vanyar bareback. Iarion reclaimed his pack, glad to have the Levniquenya in his possession once more.

Lysandir led them through the mountains. Barlo walked at his side, at home in his own mountain range.

They were almost halfway through the pass when Iarion felt a prickle on the back of his neck. He snapped to alertness and swept the area, looking for the source of the instinctive warning. He could see nothing. He noticed Silvaranwyn was also glancing about. She looked up at the night sky and fell to the ground with a gasp.

Iarion felt his eyes drawn upward to see what had frightened her. His blood froze. The large silhouette of a drake and its rider blotted out the stars. It was a Forsworn One.

“
Koresin!”
he hissed, lapsing into his own tongue.

Lysandir’s gaze followed Iarion’s and his eyes went wide. “Hide!” he ordered the others. “Quickly!”

The twins and Barlo seemed confused, but they hurried to obey the Learnéd One’s command. Everyone darted to the sides of the pass, seeking the shadows of the mountains. Iarion had to physically drag Silvaranwyn to hide with him. She was incapacitated, shivering with fear. Iarion crouched and put his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. The horses were also trembling, their eyes rolling in their heads. Linwyn and Golaron focused on calming them and keeping them silent. Barlo’s eyes were glued to the sky.

The shadow of the drake and its rider grew even larger as it flew closer. Iarion forced down a wave of terror that threatened to overwhelm him. He broke out in a cold sweat. As the Forsworn One drew near, Iarion’s despair grew. Silvaranwyn wasn’t the only one trembling now. Iarion tried to force the arm he had placed around Silvaranwyn’s shoulder to stop shaking with limited success.

As the shadow neared the pass, it seemed to fill the entire sky, swallowing the moon and stars. Iarion watched as a small wildflower growing from a crack in the rocks at his feet withered and died. No form of life could bear the presence of a Forsworn One for long.

The shadow swept over the pass and Iarion could hear the flap of the drake’s wings. Soon they would be discovered and the quest would be over. Iarion fought the urge to run out of the shadows to reveal their location and end this torment. Such was the power of the Forsworn.

Iarion bore it as long as he possibly could. Just when he felt he was about to cry out, the drake turned north and flew out of sight. Iarion went limp with relief. He heard the others let out the breath they had all been holding.

“What was that?” Linwyn demanded.

“It was a Forsworn One,” Lysandir said.

“Why did we hide from it? Why didn’t we fight it?” Linwyn seemed annoyed.

“They are the strongest creatures of the Fallen One. They are powered and bound to him by the corrupt bit of the Quenya he possesses. If we had fought it, we would not have survived.” Lysandir turned to help Iarion with Silvaranwyn.

“Some of us may not have.” Linwyn cast a meaningful glance in Silvaranwyn’s direction. “But why allow the creature to rejoin its army?”

“It did not spot us. If it had, we would be captured or dead by now. If we had alerted it, its brethren would know. It is one of seven of its kind. It would only be a matter of time before the others found us. We would die, and your city would fall. So unless that is what you want to happen, I suggest you temper your rashness with some common sense!” Lysandir’s silver eyes flashed.

Linwyn glared at him and opened her mouth to reply, but Golaron’s soft voice cut her off.

“What more can you tell us of these Forsworn?” he asked, giving his sister a glance of warning. “We have only heard them mentioned in legends.”

“Perhaps it would be best if we rested before moving on.” Lysandir looked over at Iarion, who was still comforting Silvaranwyn. “We will need all our strength if we are going to fight our way across the Lower Daran Nunadan to reach Belierumar.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “During the Age of Betrayal, some two thousand years after Saviadro came to power, he sent a peace treaty to the elves, offering to return the stolen portion of the Quenya. Seven elves with the strongest connection with the Quenya were sent as emissaries to retrieve it.

“What they did not know was that it had been bent to serve Saviadro’s will. When they seized it, they became enslaved. It twisted their bodies and magic, making them tools of destruction that drain the life of all around them. No living thing can bear their presence for long. Plants wither and die. Elves are particularly susceptible and sensitive to their presence, especially the Light Elves, who serve the untainted Quenya.

“It has been centuries since they were last seen outside their own borders. Now they have come south to lead the attack that will eventually fall on Melaquenya as Saviadro tries to take the remainder of the Quenya for himself.”

Silence followed Lysandir’s words. Linwyn was the first to break it.

“How can these Forsworn be killed?”

“As long as the Stariquenya exists apart from the rest of the Quenya, they cannot be killed. They are tied to its power.” Lysandir shook his head.