“What you say may be true,” Feoras said, “but I still must do what I can to protect my people.” A hint of doubt crept into his voice.
“Forgive me, old friend,” Raslynia said with a smile. “But we are not your children to shelter without concern for our opinions. I know you meant well, but we have a large stake in this. Please tell me you do not intend to tell Saviadro Iarion is here.”
“I am supposed to, yes.” Feoras looked torn.
“Feoras, please,” Iarion said. “Reconsider. The situation has changed. We can win now, but only if I can reach Melaquenya before Saviadro. Your help could be instrumental to our success.”
“What can I do?” The Learnéd One’s expression was torn.
“You can help us make swift passage south,” Iarion said. “You control the waters. Think! The Quenya is housed on Eraquenya, which is surrounded by the Rillin. You could hold the river against Saviadro as a last line of defense.”
“You are asking me to defy the Fallen One!” The blood drained from Feoras’s face.
“I am asking you to help save the people of Lasniniar.”
“You have given us much to consider,” Telariras said. “We do not have much involvement in the outside world, but I sense we cannot abstain from this decision. We all need some time to contemplate this matter. In the meantime, you will be our honored guests.”
“Feoras.” The lord turned his gaze upon the Learnéd One. “You also have a decision to make. But know that we will not be party to handing Iarion and the Stariquenya over to Saviadro. Consider your options well. If I discover you have sent any of your gulls to Saviadro, I will have no choice but to name you traitor and exile you from Rasdaria and all lands held by our people. We do not make deals with the Fallen One, regardless of the cost. Now go.”
Feoras left without looking back.
– Chapter Thirty-Five –
Torn
Golaron could see his breath. It would be winter soon. Would they see any snow before returning south? Years ago, there had been a winter so cold, it had snowed in Belierumar. Golaron remembered making snowballs and having mock battles with Linwyn.
Silvaranwyn had probably never even seen snow before. He tried to imagine the look of delight that would cross her face as she saw it for the first time, and smiled.
He and Silvaranwyn had followed the trail of Linwyn’s captors for three days. After the Pass of Stars, they were careful to look for any signs his sister had escaped, but it seemed the men had learned their lesson and kept Linwyn under closer guard. He and Silvaranwyn had followed the trail along the Great North Road, heading west, then north toward Nal Nungalid. They met no one on the road. The area was eerily quiet.
They had waited until nightfall to cross the Silvershroud River in order to avoid detection, but they might as well have crossed in daylight. No sentry watched the river. It was clear the dark creatures were confident in their position. And with good reason. Nal Nungalid was a hive of activity. It would be nearly impossible to infiltrate. He and Silvaranwyn watched the area from a location to the northeast, looking for an opening.
“We could pick off a couple of goblins and steal their clothes,” Golaron said.
“They do not wear anything to conceal themselves, and our skin and eyes are the wrong color. Besides, neither of us know the Black Tongue. We would be captured in moments.” Silvaranwyn sighed.
“Well that leaves sneaking in during the night,” Golaron said.
“The night is their time. They can see far better than either of us.”
“During the day then.”
“They have Hidar’s tribe now. They will most likely be on duty during the day.” Silvaranwyn continued to watch the city as the sun sank in the west.
“Well what can we do then? We can’t just attack the place with only two of us!” Golaron felt his frustration mounting. His sister was somewhere in the city before them, but he had no way of reaching her.
“We wait for an opening,” Silvaranwyn said, not taking her eyes off the city.
“We don’t have time! Linwyn needs our help.” He could not believe the elf was being so calm about this.
“Actually, we do have time.” She turned to look at him. “Linwyn is bait. They need her alive. It will do her no good if we go charging in without a plan. Then they will have three captives.” Her features softened.
“I am sorry, Golaron. I know you want to save your sister, but we must wait. These creatures were not meant to work together. They are too selfish and chaotic. It is only the presence of the Forsworn that keeps them from rebelling. Eventually, their discipline will slip and they will begin to fight among themselves. That is when we make our move. Until then, we should wait, plan, and watch for the right opportunity.”
Golaron sighed. “You are right. It’s just… Well, it kills me to be so close!”
“Try to get some sleep. I will take the first watch. Your wound is still healing.” Silvaranwyn turned back to watch the city.
Golaron stifled a protest. His head throbbed and his worried thoughts ran in circles. He knew she was right and he would need to be rested if they were going to have any chance of rescuing Linwyn. He unpacked his bedroll and wrapped himself in his woolen blankets, waiting for sleep to claim him.
Golaron must have drifted off because a few hours later, someone was shaking him awake. It was Silvaranwyn. Golaron rubbed his eyes and sat up. His muscles were cold and stiff. He frowned. It was still a few hours before his turn to take watch.
“We have a visitor,” Silvaranwyn said in a low voice.
Golaron rose to his feet, drawing his sword. Even though she seemed calm, it didn’t hurt to be prepared.
He walked a few steps through the darkness to where she had been keeping watch. They didn’t dare risk a fire so close to the city. A short, squat figure stood, waiting. As Golaron’s eyes adjusted, he realized it was a dwarf with a salt-and-pepper beard.
Golaron shook himself awake and sat. “Galfidar! What are you doing here?”
“My brother has grown tired of our new neighbors. He’s sent me with the army and some of the able refugees from Nal Nungalid to encourage them to leave.” The dwarf flashed an evil grin. “I was scouting the area and came across you two.”
“You are going to attack the city? How big is your army?”
“It doesn’t matter how big your army is when it’s made up of dwarves!” Galfidar slapped Golaron on the back. “But seriously, the Dargakir that was dwelling here has left on some errand. Reporting back to its master, no doubt. We’ve been watching the city, waiting for an opportunity like this. We’re going to attack at dawn. The foul creatures will be sleepy and can’t see well then, and they won’t be as organized without their general.” Golaron realized Dargakir must mean ‘Forsworn One’ in Dwarvish.
“It is a good plan,” Golaron said, feeling a spark of hope. “But you should know there are also some Lesser Men down there. They will be on watch during the day.”
“Silvaranwyn told me about Hidar’s tribesmen and your sister. That’s another reason dawn will be the best time. The men will just be waking and won’t be fully alert. And from the sound of it, they don’t serve the Fallen One willingly. Maybe they’ll take the opportunity to flee.”
Golaron was desperate for any chance to free his sister, but he looked to Silvaranwyn to see what she thought.
She nodded her agreement. “This is the kind of chance we need. At the very least, we can rescue Linwyn while the creatures are distracted. If we are successful, the Forsworn One will return to find its army scattered and demoralized.”
“Let’s do it,” Golaron said.
“Come join our camp,” Galfidar said. “That way you can both get some rest.” They packed their things and followed the dwarf.
The next morning dawned overcast and cool. A dense fog hung over the Upper Daran Nunadan. It was the perfect weather for a surprise attack.
Golaron had woken early. He was restless for the coming battle and ea
ger to find Linwyn. He listened as Galfidar went over the plan.
They would surround the city and attack in silence. Nal Nungalid did not have a wall, which was how it had fallen to the dark creatures. He and Silvaranwyn would stay with Galfidar and move in from the north toward the great hall. It was the most likely location for Linwyn to be held prisoner.
Once everyone was in place, Galfidar used a torch and a mirror to direct its light so it pierced the fog, giving the signal to strike. The dwarf led his group forward. Golaron drew his sword, preparing to follow, when he realized Silvaranwyn was motionless.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It has returned,” she said in a sick voice, looking up at the sky.
Golaron followed her gaze. He could not see anything through the fog, but the familiar feeling of despair crept over him.
“No!” he cried out in anguish, dropping to his knees, his sword slipping from his fingers. Now they would never free Linwyn. It was too late to stop the attack. They were committed now. Soon it would be over.
Somehow through his misery he noticed Silvaranwyn was still standing. Her entire body was rigid and her head was thrown back with her eyes closed.
“What are you doing?” Golaron asked.
“Dealing with the Forsworn One,” she said as a frown of concentration creased her brow.
Golaron leaped to his feet. “Silvaranwyn, no!” He grabbed her arm.
“I am the only one here who has the power to do anything to stop it,” she said, gently shaking free from his grip. “If I do nothing, many will die and we will have lost what might be our only chance to save your sister.”
“But it will kill you!” Golaron’s voice broke. The thought of losing Silvaranwyn was physically painful, even though he knew it would save his twin.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Her silver eyes held his. “But this is why I am here; I am certain of it. It is my task and my choice to make.” She closed her eyes and turned her face upward once more.
Golaron felt crushed by a wave of helplessness. In the next few moments, he could lose both his sister and Silvaranwyn. The shadow of the Forsworn One’s drake was visible now. He shuddered. The grass beneath his boots went rigid with frost before withering.
It was an ice drake.
The creature circled the city, looking for a place to land. The dwarven attackers were invisible under the fog, and the drake seemed oblivious of their presence. Silvaranwyn’s frown deepened and she began to mutter under her breath in Elvish.
The drake was directly over the city. The dwarves continued their attack, having no choice now that they were committed.
The beast came to a stop, hovering overhead. It cocked its wedge-shaped head as though listening to something no one else could hear.
Silvaranwyn’s muttering intensified. Suddenly, the drake veered off, flying back toward the north. Golaron stared after it in disbelief. Once it disappeared into the distance, Silvaranwyn collapsed.
Golaron rushed to her side. “Are you all right?” Her hair was peppered with more black strands and her skin had darkened another shade.
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain. “Go. Save Linwyn, before it returns.” She made a feeble gesture toward the city.
“But—”
“Go!” Silvaranwyn closed her eyes and lowered her head to the ground.
For a moment, Golaron was torn. He looked toward Nal Nungalid, where the dwarves were killing many of the dark creatures that had just woken to meet their attack. His sister was somewhere down there, waiting for him. Then he looked back at Silvaranwyn’s limp form. Tears filled his eyes.
Would she live? He wanted to stay, to take care of her, but she had done this for him. She had done it so he could save Linwyn. Golaron forced himself to pick up his sword. With one last look at the elf, he bit back a sob and ran for the city.
– Chapter Thirty-Six –
The Call to Battle
Something was happening. Linwyn strained her ears, trying to listen, but the stone walls of the great hall were too thick.
Then she sensed the familiar despair of the Forsworn. She felt a stab of fear, a whimper escaping her lips.
She had no idea how long she had been living in the shadow of the creature’s presence. The windows of the hall were always covered. Linwyn curled herself up in a ball, wrapping her arms around her head.
She knew it had broken her. The creature had even freed her of her bonds. Her sword and armor were left unguarded on a table at the far end of the room, just to taunt her. She was free to try to escape whenever she wished.
She had tried only once. None of the other dark creatures had been present. She had grabbed her sword and rushed the Forsworn One. All it had done was touch her and her weapon had clattered useless to the floor.
That was when she had begun to contemplate suicide. Death would be preferable to her torment. Then Iarion and the others would be free to complete their quest. It was the only way she could fight back.
But the Forsworn One knew. When she refused to eat, it had her force-fed. It never slept. It was always watching. Even during its many audiences, it kept a close eye on her. Now Linwyn was curled up in a shivering ball in a corner of the room, waiting for it to walk through the door of her prison. She regretted ever thinking Silvaranwyn weak for her reaction to the evil creatures.
Linwyn’s tremors slowed and eventually stopped when she realized the presence of the Forsworn was fading. The sounds from outside became clearer.
It was a battle. She could make out the clash of weapons. Perhaps it was Iarion and her brother come to rescue her! Part of her also warned it might only be a dispute among the dark creatures now that their general was away.
In any event, it could be her chance to escape. After taking a breath to steady herself, she swallowed her fear and ran to the table that held her equipment. She pulled off her tunic and slipped on her chain mail shirt over her padded undertunic. Her tunic went back on top. She fumbled with the clasp of her cloak.
Once she had her gloves on, she cinched her sword belt around her waist and buckled it into place. Her shield was all that remained. Her helm had been lost in battle in the Daran Falnun.
She felt much more confident with the hilt of her sword in her hand. Linwyn looked around and considered. The windows were no good. They were made of leaded glass and did not open.
She crossed the empty hall to the entrance, knowing a dark creature would be standing guard outside. She grasped the brass ring on one of the doors and pulled. It gave way with a groan.
So much for stealth. Still, Linwyn used the door to her advantage, hiding behind it in the shadows and waiting for the guard to investigate.
A snuffling sound came from outside. Dull, gray light spilled through the opening, revealing the silhouette of a bearded snout with tusks.
It was an ogre.
Linwyn held her breath, waiting for it to enter. After more sniffing and a snort, it did. Although they were smarter than trolls, ogres were still not known for their intelligence. It walked past her and into the hall.
Linwyn raised her sword, preparing to take the creature down from behind. But after another long snuffle, it whirled to face her.
Linwyn tried not to gag on the creature’s foul breath. Before it could react, she knocked its cudgel from its hand. The ogre roared in fury and lowered its head to charge her with its tusks.
Linwyn ducked out of its path, spinning as she did so to strike it from behind. Her sword slid deep into the creature’s hairy back. The ogre gave one last, wet snort before falling to the floor. Linwyn pulled her blade free and wiped it clean on the creature’s hide.
Even though the battle had been brief, Linwyn felt revitalized. She banished the dark fears that had plagued her for the last few days to the back of her mind. For the first time, she began to believe she might be able to escape. She went back to the door and poked her head outside.
Nal Nungalid was in chaos. The city was bl
anketed by fog and Linwyn could hear knots of fighting taking place all around her. The wind picked up as a storm moved in. The attackers had started some fires to add to the confusion.
One of the fights moved to the steps below her, and she saw three goblins battling a dwarf. It was Galfidar. The city was under attack by the dwarves of Dwarfwatch. With a surge of battle fury, she rushed down to the dwarf’s aid. Between them, they made quick work of the three goblins.
“Thanks,” Galfidar said once they had finished the creatures off. “Your brother’s looking for you.”
Golaron appeared through the fray. His sword was covered in blood. He spotted Linwyn and ran toward her. She rushed to meet him and they collided in a fierce embrace.
“I knew you would come,” Linwyn said.
“Are you all right?” Golaron asked, pulling away to get a good look at her.
Linwyn laughed, feeling a slightly giddy. “I am now.”
“We’re winning!” Galfidar cried. “They’re nothing without their Forsworn One to hold them together. The Lesser Men have already fled.”
Linwyn looked over her brother’s shoulder as someone ran toward them. A goblin tried to intercept the runner, but they pulled a bow from their back and took the creature down with a single shot, not missing a stride. Linwyn frowned in surprise.
“Silvaranwyn,” she said aloud, amazed to see the elf woman in the midst of the battle.
Golaron whirled around, looking just as surprised. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
A dark and familiar feeling welled up inside Linwyn. An ominous rumble of thunder rolled overhead. She looked up to the sky and sensed more than saw a shadow.
“It has returned.”
Silvaranwyn nodded. “I came to warn you it was coming. You must leave. I will try to distract it while you escape.” Linwyn noticed Silvaranwyn looked pale and wan. Her hair was darker.
Golaron shook his head. “No. I will not let you risk yourself like that again! I’ve seen what it does to you.”
Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) Page 27
