Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1)

by Smith, Jacquelyn

  “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.

  “And if we are successful?” Barlo asked. “What will happen to them if we manage to reunite the Quenya?”

  “No one knows,” Lysandir said. “They may be destroyed, or they may return to their former selves. We will see. At any rate, it is time for us to move on.”

  They continued their trek through the Narrow Pass unmolested. Silvaranwyn seemed to have recovered. She walked beside Iarion in silence. Barlo kept pace with her, trying to draw her out with quiet conversation. Iarion noticed Linwyn glancing back at them several times with a strange look on her face when she thought Iarion was not watching. He wondered what she was thinking.

  The pass opened, and the Lower Daran Nunadan lay before them. It was another range of open grassland, much like the Adar Daran. The campfires Iarion had spotted earlier continued to burn around Belierumar.

  The tower city was formed of gray and black stone, and was nestled on the southern edge of the Barrier Mountains within viewing distance of the Southern Passage. It had been built long ago to watch the South Road that led through the passage. It was the only gateway between Northern and Middle Lasniniar for many leagues.

  To the east, the city was bordered by the River of Sorrow, which fed Star Lake. The river rushed out from the mountains to the north and was nearly impossible to cross. With these natural defenses, Belierumar could only be attacked from the east and south.

  The only entrance to the city was a tall gate of solid wood and steel. The city had a fresh water supply and was made to endure long sieges.

  The dark forces could be occupied here for months, if not longer. Iarion hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  No light could be seen coming from within the walls. The city stood in darkness.

  Linwyn and Golaron mounted their horses. “We will ride ahead and clear a path for you,” Linwyn said. “The guards will open the gate if they see us.”

  “I will not be able to do much,” Lysandir said, surprising them. Linwyn shot the Learnéd One a smug look. “It is better if the enemy does not know I travel with you. It will give us the element of surprise. Then I can save my energies for when the attack on the city begins.”

  Iarion placed a hand on Lysandir’s shoulder. “We will protect you.” Barlo and Silvaranwyn nodded their agreement. The Light Elf looked pale, but determined.

  Linwyn made a snort of skepticism. “Very well. Let’s go!” She dug her heels into the sides of her mount and was off, leaving her brother to chase after her.

  “That one is going to be trouble,” Barlo grumbled.

  The Learnéd One, the dwarf, and the two elves waited a few moments to give Linwyn and Golaron the head start they needed. Screams filled the night air as the enemy camp came awake under the twins’ swords and their horses’ hooves. At least they had the element of surprise. But it would not last for long. Barlo roared a battle cry and ran forward, bearing his ax. Iarion and Silvaranwyn ran with Lysandir between them, firing arrows as they went. They met with little resistance until they were almost halfway to their goal. Now all the dark forces were awake and armed. Their progress slowed to a crawl.

  Iarion was forced to draw his knife as the fighting got closer. He and Barlo kept the area around Lysandir and Silvaranwyn clear so the Light Elf could continue to fire her arrows and thin the ranks of their attackers.

  Iarion’s blade was slick with the dark blood of goblins, which seemed to make up most of the enemy force. Silvaranwyn was running out of arrows. Linwyn and Golaron wheeled their mounts back toward their companions, seeing they were in danger of being overrun.

  “For Belierumar!” Linwyn shouted a ringing cry as she charged her opponents with no concern for her safety. Golaron struggled behind her, trying to keep the dark creatures from his reckless sister’s back.

  Linwyn’s war cry must have been heard by the men guarding the walls of the city because moments later, the torches were lit. Then the hail of arrows began. The guards had spotted Linwyn and Golaron and were shooting the enemy forces from the wall. A horn sounded three times.

  “It’s the call for retreat!” Linwyn shouted. “We must make for the gates. The archers will help cover our passage.” She turned her horse once more and plowed toward the city gates, cleaving a path as she went.

  “Go!” Golaron shouted. “I will cover the rear.”

  The others ran in Linwyn’s wake. Iarion and Barlo cut down anyone who tried to stop them. Goblins fell to the ground around them, riddled with the arrows of Belierumar. Iarion could see the gate. It was starting to open. Some goblins tried to rush inside, but there were more guards waiting for them with swords. The men stepped aside as Linwyn passed through. The others tumbled in after her.

  Golaron was missing. Iarion looked back to see where he was. He watched as Linwyn’s brother approached, a horde of goblins at his heels. The archers on the wall above could not risk shooting without hitting their own man.

  Golaron fought off many of the goblins, but he was about to be overwhelmed. He was only a few feet away from the gates. One of the creatures climbed onto Golaron’s horse behind him while he was distracted by his other opponents. It held its jagged blade poised to strike.

  “Golaron!” Linwyn shouted a desperate cry of warning.

  Iarion drew his bow and aimed. His arrow sped past Golaron’s cheek to hit the goblin in the throat. It fell from the horse’s back with a gurgle.

  Iarion charged with his knife drawn, struggling to reach Golaron in the fray. The guards of the city could do little but hold the gates from the goblins, who were still trying to get inside. Iarion fought until his face and clothes were covered with the spatter of goblin blood. Iarion heard a familiar voice and knew Barlo had managed to get past the ones at the gate to follow him. Linwyn wouldn’t be far behind.

  Iarion finally reached Golaron’s side. He helped him kill enough of the creatures for both of them to make a run for the gate.

  The goblins seemed afraid of Iar
ion in his battle-crazed state. He rushed for the safety of the city’s walls behind Golaron. Barlo appeared from the chaos to run beside him. They sprinted the last few feet to the city. The enormous gates boomed shut behind him.

  They had reached Belierumar.

  – Chapter Ten –

  Family Troubles

  Barlo tried to catch his breath. His short legs were burning. He would never have let his best friend rescue Golaron alone. Linwyn threw herself at her brother, wrapping him in a fierce embrace. After a moment, she pulled back.

  “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” she said, gripping his shoulders. Golaron smiled and shook his head before turning to see to his horse.

  Barlo watched as Linwyn’s gaze fell on Iarion, who was busy cleaning his blade. Her expression was awed, as though she were seeing him for the first time. A creeping suspicion grew in Barlo’s mind. He would have to speak to her later, when he got a chance.

  “The Heirs of Belierumar have returned, and just in time, it seems.” A man stepped forward with a salute. Barlo guessed from his manner of dress and bearing he was a general of some sort. “Your father will be eager to see you. I have sent runners to the tower to announce your arrival. You and your companions must go there at once.”

  Linwyn nodded her agreement. The man looked at the members of their group with wondering eyes. Barlo noticed the other guards were giving them similar glances.

  Once they were cleaned up and presentable, the companions were escorted through the city. Their arrival was heralded with great fanfare, despite the late hour. A crier went before them, announcing that the Heirs of Belierumar had returned. Linwyn and Golaron rode at the head of the procession.