Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1)

by Smith, Jacquelyn

  The journey felt endless, but Iarion knew it was only because the going was so difficult. His back and shoulders ached from maintaining his crouched position for so long. His legs were shaking. He comforted himself with the knowledge they were finally moving forward on their quest. He tried to force his mind elsewhere with limited success. His breathing became rapid and shallow, and he began to slip into panic, imagining they were running out of air. With each new step, he expected the tunnel to collapse on them.

  He was relieved when the tunnel finally opened into a small chamber. Two dwarves sat inside, sharpening their axes on whetstones. Two additional chambers branched off to either side. From what Iarion could make out, one was a room for storage and a makeshift kitchen, while the other was where the guards slept when they were off duty. The snoring of additional guards confirmed his guess.

  The two guards on duty sprang to attention at the arrival of such a strange group. It was unlikely any news had reached them about the arrival of Iarion and his companions. The elf realized the dwarves must work these shifts several days at a time.

  Lorugo calmed the guards and spoke to them in the Dwarven Tongue while gesturing to the group. The guards relaxed and their expressions became curious as they looked at each of their visitors in turn.

  “Please forgive our welcome,” one said slowly in Common. “We were not expecting visitors, especially not strangers to Dwarfhaven.”

  “We require passage to the Hills of Mist,” Lysandir said. “Will you show us the door?”

  “Of course, Lazmiru.” The guard bowed to the Learnéd One. “But know that once you leave, you will not be able to return this way. The door cannot be opened from the outside and it is made to remain hidden.”

  “That should not be a problem,” Lysandir said.

  “Very well. Stand back.”

  The guard stood on a stool and traced his hands across the ceiling. Having found the spot he wanted, he applied light pressure. Part of the stone ceiling slid aside to reveal a trap door. The dwarf pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked it before stepping down.

  “Good luck on your quest,” Lorugo said with a grin.

  “Thank you for all your help,” Lysandir said as he climbed onto the stool. “It seems Dwarfhaven has finally gotten the chance to make a fresh start.”

  “I look forward to returning here once our quest is complete to talk business with your uncle,” Barlo said. Lorugo’s eyes lit at the prospect.

  Lysandir threw the trapdoor open and climbed toward the light. Once he reached the surface, he held an arm down to help Silvaranwyn. Linwyn and Golaron went next. Iarion stayed behind to give Barlo a much needed boost. He knew the dwarves must have some ladder that would allow them to reach the surface, but Barlo was too proud to ask.

  “Not a word from you, elf,” Barlo snapped as Iarion helped him reach Golaron’s outstretched arm.

  “Did I say something?” Iarion asked with mock innocence.

  “Never mind.”

  Iarion was the last to climb up. He blinked rapidly in the sudden light. Once his eyes had cleared, he looked around. The Barrier Mountains now lay behind them to the south. They were surrounded by grassy hills shrouded in a white mist. The air was cooler north of the mountains.

  It felt good to be above ground and back in open spaces. He took several deep breaths and pushed his damp and disheveled hair back from his face.

  Iarion narrowed his eyes and tried to glimpse the sky through the mist. It was about midmorning. He heard a soft click and looked down to discover the dwarves had sealed the trapdoor behind him. It was covered with a seamless, grassy hummock. If Iarion had not just come through it, he would never have guessed it even existed. There were no landmarks to be seen. Now there was no way to go but forward. It was a relief to be able to stand upright once more. He and the others took a few moments to stretch their cramped muscles.

  “Come,” Lysandir said. “Let’s move on. We will head for Nal Huraseadro to learn what news we can of what is happening in the north.”

  The Learnéd One led the way, heading northwest. Silvaranwyn walked behind him, followed by Linwyn, Golaron, and Barlo. Iarion took the rear. Except for Silvaranwyn and Lysandir, the companions held their weapons close and gave wary glances out into the strange mist. Even Iarion had difficulty penetrating it with his elven sight. The group walked in silence, hushed by the unnatural quiet of their surroundings. They traveled for several hours, weaving through the hills. It would be easy to become lost in such a place.

  Silvaranwyn was the first to hear the voice. She gestured for the others to stop and listen. Iarion strained his ears. Someone was singing. It was a male voice, singing in a deviation of the Common Tongue. The language was vaguely familiar to him and he struggled to remember where he had heard it before.

  Whoever the singer was, he seemed unconcerned about anyone hearing him. He continued his rousing song as he drew nearer.

  A figure came into view from the east as the singer emerged from the mist. It was a man with flaming red hair that touched his shoulders and bright, green eyes the color of new shoots. He wore a chestplate with the symbols of an upturned horn and a circle, which were inlaid with scarlet. He carried a spear at his side. He came to an abrupt halt as he noticed he was not alone.

  He was a Lesser Man. The difference between him and the twins was obvious. While they were beautiful, proud, and grim, the man’s eyes were merry and full of vitality. His skin was weather-beaten, but pale next to their bronze complexions. Lesser Men were the youngest of all the races. They had no contact with the elves, unlike their Greater cousins. Even Lysandir had little to do with them.

  They lived in scattered tribes in the Daran Falnun, southeast of the dark lands. Each tribe spoke its own dialect of the Common Tongue. Iarion had wandered those lands long ago, which was why the language seemed familiar. The man clutched his spear in a defensive posture, his eyes darting from one member of the group to the other. His expression was awestruck at the sight of two elves. To Lesser Men, elves were merely creatures of legend.

  Iarion stepped forward with his empty palms facing upward in a peaceful gesture.

  “Greetings,” he said in the Common Tongue and waited to see if the man would respond.

  “Greetings,” the man said haltingly. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Iarion. My companions and I are headed for Nal Huraseadro. So long as you do not fight for the Fallen One, we mean you no harm.” Lesser Men were much easier to corrupt than their cousins. Many tribes had sworn fealty to Saviadro to become Darkling Men.

  The man spat in disgust. “I am no lackey of his. I am Hidar. My father is Chief of the Tribe of Horn.”

  “My apologies,” Iarion said. “What brings you so far from your home?”

  “The dark forces are gathering in the north. Many other tribes have decided to join them. My people are isolated and in desperate need of allies. We are one of the few tribes left that has not fallen under the Fallen One’s spell. My father is so desperate, he sent me to the Forest of the Sea to beg the aid of the Sea Elves who our legends say dwell there. I tried to enter the forest, but the enchanted river that surrounds it would not let me pass. So I decided to travel southwest to Nal Huraseadro to see if they can help. I cannot return to my people empty-handed.”

  “These are indeed dark times,” Iarion said.

  “If you are going to Nal Huraseadro, perhaps we can travel together.” Hidar’s face brightened.

  “I suppose it would make sense.” Iarion did not like the idea, but he could see no way around it. He looked over at his companions to gauge their responses.

  Linwyn and Golaron watched Hidar with distrust. They were from the midlands and had no contact with their Lesser cousins. Lysandir and Barlo both seemed to indicate the decision was up to Iarion, but Barlo was the more reluctant of the two.

  Silvaranwyn caught Iarion’s eye and gave him an affirming nod. Although Silvaranwyn was fading, she did have more of a connection wit
h the Quenya than anyone else in the group. Perhaps she could sense something about Hidar the rest of them could not.

  Hidar pulled Iarion aside to speak to him in a low voice. “If we are to travel together, there are two questions I must ask.” He looked over at the others. “Did you know you travel with one who used to work at the side of the Fallen One?” His green eyes darted in Lysandir’s direction.

  “It was not by choice,” Iarion said. “In the end, he escaped. Now he works against Saviadro. He is a trusted friend.”

  Hidar nodded. “If you trust him, so be it. But know that my people still tell tales of his time in the dark lands.”

  “What is the other question?”

  “Why is that woman carrying a sword?” He jutted his stubbled chin in Linwyn’s direction. “Everyone knows women do not fight.”

  Iarion hid a smile. “I wouldn’t ask her that if I were you. I know among your people women are forbidden to take up the blade, but it is an honored calling among hers.”

  “Is she any good?”

  “She has led armies into battle and emerged victorious.” Iarion shrugged. “I have seen her fight with my own eyes. She is fierce and very brave.”

  “Really? What an amazing thing!” Hidar smiled and slapped Iarion on the shoulder. Iarion hid a wince. “It’s settled then. Introduce me to your companions and we can be off.”

  Iarion made the introductions, ignoring the silent suspicions of Barlo and the twins. They would get over it. Hidar seemed friendly enough. Even if he wasn’t what he appeared to be, they only had to travel with him as far as Nal Huraseadro.

  – Chapter Sixteen –

  A Change in Plan

  They traveled through the Hills of Mist all day, only taking a short break for the noon meal. Hidar proved to be good company. He passed the time by talking about his homeland, and asking naive questions of his new group of friends. His exuberance and innocence were disarming. Even Barlo and Linwyn were drawn into conversation with him. He earned nothing but scowls from Golaron, who refused to speak with him. Unfazed, Hidar continued to chat away.

  There seemed to be an unspoken agreement among the original companions to avoid mentioning their quest. Although Hidar was likeable, they had only known him a few hours.

  Iarion did not want to make any decisions about the man until he had the chance to discuss the matter in private with the others, but for his own part, he found himself liking Hidar. His youth and enthusiasm were infectious. It reminded Iarion of a time when he was young and the world seemed wide and full of promise.

  Nal Huraseadro came into view as the sun was beginning to set. They circled the city to approach its gates from the west. Instead a tower, it was a sprawling complex of buildings surrounded by a sturdy wall. The craftsmanship was fair, but could not be compared with the dwarven workmanship of Belierumar. It seemed to rise from the mist, surrounded by the hills to the east.

  To the west lay the Great North Road, over which the people of Nal Huraseadro kept watch. The land opened into the Upper Daran Nunadan to the north, where the herds of Nal Huraseadro’s prized horses ran until they reached the Silvershroud River and the Mountains of Shadow. The only way through the mountains was the Pass of Stars, which led to Hidar’s homeland, the Daran Falnun.

  “If the city has not fallen, why did they not send us any warning or come to our aid?” Linwyn asked.

  “There is more to learn here,” Lysandir said. “You will get your answers soon enough.”

  The group approached the city. The gate was shut. The place seemed quiet, and Iarion was surprised when he saw a pair of guards standing watch over the front gate from the wall above. They wore red and brown, the colors of the city. They were also well armored. Both men reached for their bows at the group’s approach.

  “Halt! Who seeks entrance to Nal Huraseadro?”

  Lysandir stepped forward. “We are weary companions who seek news and rest.”

  “Lysandir!” The man lowered his bow. “Our lord will be eager to meet with you. Can you vouch for your companions?”

  “I give you my word. They will cause no harm.” Lysandir gave each of the others a glance of warning to reinforce his words. His eyes lingered on Linwyn, who flushed and looked away.

  “Then enter and be welcome.” The guard gave a signal to someone below him and the gate began to swing open. “Our lord is giving audience in his hall.”

  “Thank you,” Lysandir said.

  The Learnéd One led the way through the arched gate. The city was silent. Other than the occasional child peering through a window, they saw no one. The place felt empty.

  The houses fell away and a single building appeared before them on a rise, backing onto the Hills of Mist. It was a large structure of stone, traced with starsilver. Here, the craftsmanship was akin to the tower of Belierumar.

  “The dwarves of Dwarfhaven crafted this long ago,” Barlo said. “They probably would have done more if not for the betrayal.” He sighed and patted the stone.

  Two more guards stood watch over the entrance to the hall. Their eyes widened at the sight of Lysandir and his companions.

  “Greetings, Learnéd One,” the first guard said. Both men bowed. “May I ask the names of your company so I may announce them?”

  “Certainly,” Lysandir said. “This man is Hidar, the son of the Chief of the Tribe of Horn. Here we have Barlo, Chief of Clans of Dwarvenhome. The man and woman are Golaron and Linwyn, the children of Lord Eranander, and the two elves are Silvaranwyn and Iarion. Silvaranwyn is the daughter of the Lord and Lady of the Light Elves, and Iarion is an elf held in high regard among his kind.”

  The first guard blinked for a moment, then nodded. “One moment.” He opened the door to the hall and stepped inside. After a few moments, he returned and gestured for the group to enter.

  Lysandir led the way in. The hall was even larger on the inside. Tall, stone columns bent in graceful arcs high above their heads. Barlo’s eyes lit at the sight.

  The walls were covered with tapestries. Many of them featured the horses the people of the city held in such high regard. At the end of the hall sat an elderly man on a modest throne. He had long, gray hair and a close-cropped beard. He wore a plain circlet of gold on his brow. Despite his age, his dark green eyes still seemed clear and perceptive as they swept over the approaching group.

  Lysandir stepped forward and bowed. “Greetings, Lord Andiraron.”

  “What strange and honored company you keep, Lysandir!” The man gave them a wondering smile. “It is a pity you come in such unpleasant times.”

  “It is unpleasant events that have brought us to you,” Lysandir said.

  “I feared as much.” The lord shook his head. “What news from the south?”

  “Belierumar was recently besieged by an army of dark creatures. They were led by two of the Forsworn. With some luck, my companions and I managed to arrive in time to push back the army to the Southern Passage. New alliances have been made among elves, dwarves, and men. Even the dwarves of Dwarfhaven came to the city’s aid.”

  “What wondrous news!” Lord Andiraron’s eyes widened. “It has been generations since we last had contact with Dwarfhaven.”

  Linwyn forced her way to the front of the group, shrugging her brother’s hand from her arm. “Why did you not send word the army was coming?” she said, ignoring Lysandir’s glare. “Why didn’t you come to our aid?”

  “You pose valid questions.” Andiraron remained unshaken. “The midlands are not the only place the dark creatures roam unchecked. Weeks ago, an even larger army came through the Pass of Stars. We heard rumors of their approach and I sent my two sons with our army to make a stand. They were overrun. I am left with only those few who stayed to guard us here.

  “The dark army then split into two forces. Half went south to your city. The other half went west under the leadership of a third Forsworn One to our sister city, Nal Nungalid. There was nothing we could do. Nal Nungalid has fallen. The dwarves of Dwarfwatch have r
etreated to the surrounding countryside, taking refuge in their halls. A Forsworn One rules Nal Nungalid now. We were no longer a hindrance, so the southbound army passed us by. The westbound army undoubtedly plans to overwhelm us once their hold on Nal Nungalid is secure.” Silence met the lord’s words.

  “I am sorry we could not come to Belierumar’s aid,” he continued. “I sent a messenger to warn your father, but it seems he was intercepted.” Andiraron’s shoulders slumped. Sorrow and impotent anger warred within his eyes.

  Linwyn stepped back, looking chagrined. Iarion’s hope abandoned him. If Nal Nungalid had fallen and the Pass of Stars was blocked, how could they continue north?

  “Do your sons still live?” Lysandir asked.

  “The last I heard, yes.”

  “Why do you not recall them and the rest of your forces? If the dark army has already come through the Pass of Stars, there is no further need to guard it,” the Learnéd One said.

  “Unfortunately, there is a need.” Lord Andiraron sighed. “Many tribes in the Daran Falnun are being persuaded to join the Fallen One. Soon they will muster and try to force their way through the pass.”

  The lord’s eyes narrowed. “Now allow me to ask you a question. What is your group’s purpose here in the northlands? You are too few to be an army, and too varied a group to be on a pleasure jaunt.”

  For several moments, no one spoke. Iarion’s companions shared looks of unspoken doubt. Barlo, Linwyn, and Golaron looked at Hidar with uncertain expressions.

  Silvaranwyn stepped forward. “We are on a quest to travel into the dark lands and retrieve the tainted portion of the Quenya held by Saviadro. We are trying to reunite it with the rest of the Quenya before the Fallen One’s army can reach Melaquenya.” Linwyn shot Silvaranwyn a dirty look and Hidar’s green eyes went wide. The others looked at her with surprise.

  “Now you know our purpose,” Lysandir said. “You have given us news that our quest has become nearly impossible to fulfill. There is one more thing I would ask of you. Have you seen or had any news of Numarin here in the northlands?”