“Who built this incredible structure?” Barlo’s eyes were wide as he ran his hands over the smooth stone.
“The Earth Elves built it long ago.” Iarion looked off into the distance as he remembered.
Linwyn gave the doors a push, but nothing happened. They must be locked from the inside. She stepped back, looking to Lysandir.
After a moment of consideration, the Learnéd One raised one hand and spoke some muttered words. The doors swung inward without a sound.
“I do not know whether this is a good sign,” Lysandir said. “On the one hand, the doors being locked means no one has entered here since Numarin left, so any clues will have remained undisturbed. This makes it seem as though Numarin left of his own accord. But the doors might have locked themselves behind Numarin’s abductor, if someone managed to take him by force.” He stood for a moment in thought.
“We will split up and search the tower,” he said after a pause. “Do not touch anything. If you find something of interest, call for me.” Lysandir stepped across the threshold without looking back. One by one, the rest of them filed in after him.
As they entered, the tower filled with light. Silver torches lining the walls gave off a strange, white glow. Otherwise, the entrance was empty of furnishings. The arched ceiling was so high, Iarion could have stood on Lysandir’s shoulders and he still would not have been able to reach it. The floor was made of the same white and blue stone as the walls and ceiling, and was perfectly smooth. Its polished surface reflected the light of the ethereal torches. Three stairways led upward from the main hall.
Barlo looked around, his mouth agape. Silvaranwyn’s golden eyes were also wide. Iarion hid a smile. They were the only ones in their group who had never been inside Mar Arin.
Iarion glanced around. Nothing seemed disturbed. There were no signs of a struggle.
Lysandir headed to the middle stairway and began to climb, leaving the rest of them to sort themselves out. Linwyn and Golaron took the spire on the left. Iarion led the way up the rightmost spiral staircase. Barlo and Silvaranwyn followed.
The winding stairs led to an open room. It was filled with empty bird perches of stone that appeared to have sprouted from the floor. A huge balcony carved right out of the rock of the tower overlooked the Jagged Mountains. The floor was covered with bird droppings. Barlo raised one of his soiled boots with a groan.
“Well there’s nothing here worth investigating,” he said.
“I disagree,” Iarion said.
“Oh, really? Tell me, oh wise and ancient elf, what can there possibly be here of interest? Other than the bird dung.” Barlo made a face as he lifted his foot to scrape his boot clean on the doorjamb.
“It’s the bird dung that interests me.” Iarion frowned. “It tells me Numarin has been away for some time. Some of these droppings are months old and Numarin would never allow them to remain here while he was still in his tower. They also tell me the birds who communicated with him have come back several times to look for him.”
“The Sintadar have not seen Numarin for some time,” Silvaranwyn said, reminding them of her presence. “And they have always been close to him.” Silvaranwyn did not say what they were all thinking. If the Sky Elves could not find Numarin, he was truly missing.
“I wish we could talk to one of his birds,” Iarion said. “Perhaps they could tell us something.”
A flash of inspiration crossed Silvaranwyn’s features. Ignoring the mess, she stepped onto the balcony and threw her head back, giving a long, piercing cry. Barlo almost jumped out of his soiled boots at the sound.
After several moments, a large, golden hawk flew onto the balcony and landed on one of the perches. Barlo took a step backward, but Silvaranwyn moved forward until she was face to face with the large bird. Their golden eyes met. The hawk seemed agitated. It shifted on the perch from foot to foot, but its eyes remained locked on the Light Elf. When Silvaranwyn broke eye contact, the hawk flew off with a scream.
“What was that all about?” Barlo said.
“I called and the hawk answered.” Silvaranwyn shrugged. “I communed with it to see if it knew anything about Numarin. All Linadar can speak with birds and animals. It is a part of our connection to the Quenya.”
“And?” Iarion said.
“The hawk saw Numarin leave his tower months ago. He was headed north, and he was traveling alone. He appeared to be in a hurry.”
“We should find Lysandir and tell him,” Iarion said. He led the way back down the stairs to the main hall. Lysandir was already there, waiting. Linwyn and Golaron descended the stairs from the southernmost spire.
“What have you found?” The Learnéd One’s silver eyes were hungry for answers. Iarion told him what Silvaranwyn had discovered.
“There was nothing interesting in his library,” Linwyn said.
“But there are books and scrolls strewn everywhere,” Golaron added in his quiet voice.
“Yes, his personal quarters are also in disarray.” Lysandir frowned. “It seems Numarin left of his own accord and in haste. I do not know what would have caused him to do so.”
“None of our people have seen him for months,” Linwyn said.
“It is unlike Numarin to leave his tower in such a state,” Lysandir said. “It is also unlike him to leave so suddenly without sending any word. I must have time to ponder the meaning of this. You rest here while I have a look at Numarin’s library and think. I will be back by noon.” Lysandir ascended the leftmost set of stairs, leaving the others behind.
Barlo spread his bedroll on the stone floor and sat on it, leaning against the wall.
“Well I don’t know about the rest of you,” he said, “but I’m in no mood to sleep.”
“We should probably stay awake anyway,” Linwyn said as she followed the dwarf’s example. “It is possible we could be attacked again.” She pulled her sword from its sheath and laid it on the floor within easy reach. After a moment, Golaron, Silvaranwyn, and Iarion joined them.
“So what can you tell us about this Numarin?” Barlo asked the twins.
“Lysandir reminds me of him in many ways,” Linwyn said. “He is of similar stature. His hair and beard are white instead of gray, but he has the same black streaks. And his eyes are dark. You can never really tell what color they are. He usually wears blue and silver robes.
“Sometimes he visits our city, but we mostly come to him. He is very serious and secretive, but he can be quick to laugh at a joke. I have always liked him. Golaron does not. He doesn’t trust Numarin. Then again, my brother has a problem trusting most people.” Golaron shrugged at his sister’s words.
“I have only met him once or twice,” Iarion said. “What I noticed most about him was his hunger for knowledge. It is common enough among the Learnéd, but especially so in Numarin. He questioned me for days on end about my life and all the things I had seen until I told him I had to be on my way. Even then, I wasn’t certain he was going to let me leave.”
“And what of Lysandir?” Golaron asked, causing everyone to notice him once more. “Do you trust him?” His hazel eyes darted back and forth between Silvaranwyn and Iarion.
“My people trust him,” Silvaranwyn said. “But we know there are many others who do not.”
“He has been my friend for many years,” Iarion said. “I trust him completely.”
“We have heard rumors about him at Belierumar.” Linwyn frowned. “Rumors of betrayal. What can you tell us of this?” Iarion paused, considering Linwyn’s request.
“You should tell them,” Barlo said to him. “If they’re coming with us, they should know what we know.”
Iarion sighed. “You’re right. Besides, I don’t have the heart to watch Lysandir recount the tale again.” He closed his eyes, trying to decide where to begin. “Although Lysandir’s life has been based on betrayal, none of it has been his. If not for the Kinslaying and the initial betrayal of the dwarves, he and the others of his kind would probably never have been created.”
Iarion told the twins Lysandir’s story and about the creation of the rest of the Learnéd. A long silence hung over them once he had finished.
“What is this Kinslaying you speak of?” Linwyn asked. “I have heard mention of it before, but no one has ever explained it.”
“I have also heard of it before.” Barlo gave Silvaranwyn a meaningful look.
Iarion exchanged glances with the Linadain. She gave a brief shake of her head. Very well. If she wasn’t going to tell them, he wasn’t going to take up the burden.
“It is an event that occurred during the Age of Sundering,” Iarion said, trying to keep his voice even. “It was something of painful significance to the elves.” Barlo and the twins waited for Iarion to say more, but were left disappointed.
“Well that clears that up,” Barlo muttered.
Silvaranwyn leaned over and tapped Iarion on the shoulder. “May I speak with you alone?” Her expression was strained. Iarion nodded. They walked to the far side of the hall, out of earshot of the others.
“What’s wrong?” Iarion asked. Now that it was just the two of them, he found himself lapsing into Elvish.
“I can barely feel it.” The words seemed to tumble from her mouth.
“Can barely feel what?”
“The Quenya!” Her golden eyes filled with tears. “My connection has been slowly fading since we left Melaquenya. I expected this. But after I used my connection to call the hawk, I almost lost it completely!”
“You can’t be serious.” Iarion shook his head and started to turn. Silvaranwyn put a hand on his shoulder.
“Would I jest about something like this? Iarion, it is so distant!” Her face was full of anguish.
“I do not doubt your seriousness about what’s happening to you. What I cannot believe is you are actually talking about it to me, of all people!” Iarion threw his hands up in disgust. “At least you can still feel it. What do you think it’s like for me?” The stunned expression on Silvaranwyn’s face told him this had never occurred to her.
“I am sorry, Iarion.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. “I simply forgot. I just needed to talk to someone. I thought you would understand.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
“How could you possibly—” Iarion checked himself, realizing the others were glancing over at the two of them to see what was the matter. He brought his face close to Silvaranwyn’s and continued in a harsh whisper. “How could you possibly think I would understand? I can never feel the Quenya inside me. Never!”
“Then perhaps you are better off,” she said, lowering her eyes for a moment. “I have lived with it all my life, and now it is slipping away. I feel as though I am standing on the brink of an abyss! It is as if a part of me is slowly dying. To never have known the Quenya at all would almost be a blessing.” A single tear slid down her cheek.
Iarion felt like he had been punched in the gut. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” Golden eyes met silver-flecked sapphire. “You don’t know what it’s like—” Iarion cut himself short, unable to continue.
He turned and walked away, leaving Silvaranwyn to stare after him.
– Chapter Nine –
Strengths and Weaknesses
Iarion stalked up the stairs that led to the northern tower, fuming. He hoped no one would follow him. He needed some time to himself. He reached the top sooner than he expected. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and stared out at the wide world. What had Silvaranwyn been thinking? How could she be so ignorant? She would never understand.
And that was the problem. No one would ever understand. Unless they were successful in their quest, he would always be alone. And wasn’t Silvaranwyn just looking for some understanding on his part? She was the only one of her kind to come on this journey. She had done so willingly, knowing it was unlikely she would ever return to the Quenya and her people. She had come to him, the only other elf in their group, and he had gotten wrapped up in his own problems and walked away.
Iarion suddenly felt ashamed. After all, he had been living with his burden for thousands of years. He had let Silvaranwyn down. She had chosen to come on this journey to help him and he had pushed her away. Iarion took a final deep breath and went back downstairs. He was met halfway by Barlo. The dwarf was scowling.
“What did you say to her?”
“Some things I shouldn’t have,” Iarion said with a sigh. “Where is she now?”
“She ran up the stairs to the western spire, crying. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t hear anything I had to say.” Barlo’s voice was distressed.
“I’ll take care of it.” Iarion gestured for the dwarf to step aside. He continued down the steps and reentered the main hall to find the twins staring at him. He ignored their puzzled glances and ascended the stairs to the western spire.
Numarin’s living quarters were a mess. Ancient tomes and trinkets littered the room. Silvaranwyn stood on the balcony with her back to the stairs.
“Please, go away,” she said in the Common Tongue.
“It’s me,” Iarion said in Elvish.
Silvaranwyn turned. Her face was streaked with tears. Iarion walked over to her and placed a comforting hand on her back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I said some things I should not have. My anger at you was misplaced. I’m just frustrated with my own situation. I should have been supportive for you.”
“I am also sorry,” Silvaranwyn said through her tears. “I did not think before I spoke. It was hurtful of me. I did not mean to belittle your problem. I just thought you would understand when the others would not.”
“And I do understand.” Iarion stroked her back and shrugged. “Well, as much as someone in my situation can, anyway.”
Silvaranwyn gave a small smile. Her eyes met Iarion’s and she turned serious. “I am afraid, Iarion. I thought I had prepared myself, but not for this.”
“Do you want to return to Melaquenya? You could probably summon another bird and send a message to the Sintadar. They would send someone to escort you back.”
Silvaranwyn shook her head. “No. The Quenya has revealed my path. I must go on this quest with you. If I do not, you may fail, and my soul will be doomed for straying. I cannot ignore the will of the Quenya.”
Iarion nodded his understanding. He expected no less from her. “Then stay on the path as you must. And if you are ever frightened again and need someone to talk to, I promise I will be here.”
“I would like that.” Her smile grew. “And I will be here for you. I know I cannot understand your predicament, but there will be times when you will need to talk to someone who understands the call of the Quenya.”
“Then you forgive me?”
“Of course. Do you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive.” Iarion led Silvaranwyn away from the balcony. “We should go back. The others are probably worried. I know Barlo wasn’t happy with me.”
The two elves returned to the main hall. The others gave them curious looks as they sat down.
“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.
Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) Page 6
