Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (10 page)

“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 Iarion 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.

Windows opened and people peered out at the goings-on, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Many poured out of their homes to line the streets, cheering. Children threw flowers as the group passed. Linwyn grinned and waved. Even Golaron wore a grim smile.

They followed the stone road between the houses and through the empty marketplace until they reached the tower. Barlo admired the fine workmanship of the black and gray stone. The large blocks forming the cylindrical watchtower were set snugly together with barely a hint of a seam, the signature of dwarven masonry. The arched windows were leaded glass and several balconies could be seen high above. It was an imposing structure.

As they reached the tower entrance, the people fell silent. Linwyn and Golaron dismounted and handed the reins of their mounts to a pair of sleepy pages who were already waiting. Linwyn led the way up the stone steps, followed by her brother. The wooden doors swung open.

The twins continued to lead the way into a great hall. The high walls were lined with torches that had likely been lit just before their arrival. The reflection of the flames danced on the polished stone. At the far end of the hall was a tall window that revealed a clouded view of the night sky. Below it were two large thrones of obsidian that seemed to be fused with the dais. Two matching, lesser seats that appeared to have been added long after the tower’s construction stood at the greater thrones’ right hand. Barlo guessed they belonged to Linwyn and Golaron.

A man sat in the throne closest to the two lesser seats. The large throne to his left was empty. He had the same proud nose and stubborn chin as the twins, although his bronze face was lined and careworn. He had Linwyn’s deep blue eyes and Golaron’s dark locks, which were threaded with silver. He wore fine robes of black, maroon, and dark blue trimmed with fur, and a simple crown wrought of gold. He exuded a fierce pride. He seemed at ease with the trappings of power. Barlo judged he was a man who expected to be obeyed.

The twins approached the throne, removing their helms to kneel in unison. Lysandir signaled for the rest of their group to wait.

“Rise, Lady Linwyn of Belierumar,” the man said in a ringing voice. Linwyn stood. The man stepped down from the dais to fold her into an embrace. He stepped back and gave her an approving look.

“I am glad of your return, my daughter,” he said. “As are our people. I hear you fought bravely to breach the army that sits on our doorstep.”

“I did not do it alone,” Linwyn said, gesturing to the rest of her companions. She turned back to face her father. “Golaron fought bravely as well.”

“Indeed? I heard he had to be rescued from the fray in order to reach the gates.” The man turned a scathing glance upon Golaron’s kneeling figure. Golaron flushed, but remained silent. “It is a pity he cannot kill goblins as easily as he ripped the life from my beloved Telari as he exited her womb.”

“Father!” Linwyn placed a protesting hand on his arm. It seemed this was a long-standing argument.

The man waited several moments before lowering his glare from his son. “Rise, Golaron, and step aside so I might meet your brave companions.” He gave a negligent wave. Golaron did as he was bid without complaint.

Lysandir stepped forward, silently urging the others to follow. “Greetings, Lord Eranander,” he said with a bow.

“Lysandir!” The Lord of Belierumar smiled. “You are most welcome in our time of need. It has been too long since you last visited. But you are not the Learnéd One I was expecting. What news of Numarin?”

“All in good time, my lord. First, allow me to introduce the remainder of our group. This is Barlo, Dwarvenhome’s Chief of Clans. Standing next to him is Silvaranwyn, a daughter of the Lord and Lady of the Light Elves, and the Shadow Elf standing next to her is Iarion, who has been my friend for many a year.” As Lysandir named them, they each stepped forward and bowed.

“A fine company!” Lord Eranander’s eyes had grown wide. “You must tell me how such a strange group of companions came to travel together. And Iarion, I have heard you showed a high degree of courage and skill in your rescue of Linwyn’s brother.” He gave Golaron a sidelong look of contempt before continuing. “My men were impressed. But please, let us adjourn to a more private and comfortable setting so you may tell me your tale in full. I am most eager to hear it.”

Lord Eranander rose and led the way from the hall to a chamber used for entertaining noble guests. Several cushioned couches and chairs were clustered around a low table. Detailed tapestries depicting the history of Belierumar adorned the walls. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace, warding off the nighttime chill.

Barlo flopped onto a low, cushioned footstool with a grateful sigh. It had been a long night. The others took seats around him. A servant entered bearing a tray of food and goblets of wine. Fresh fruit, bread, cheese, and a carved roast made Barlo’s stomach rumble. He wrinkled his nose at the drink. The dark wine made by men tended to sour his stomach.

“I don’t suppose you have any ale?” he asked the servant without much hope.

“No, but we do have a fine mead imported from Nal Huraseadro.”

“That’ll do nicely, thank you.” Barlo’s eyes lit up. The servant bowed and left.

Lord Eranander watched the exchange with a smile. “As soon as our dwarf is comfortable, perhaps we can begin. Please, refresh yourselves.”

A few moments later, the servant returned with a large tankard of mead. Barlo took a long swallow and sighed. It was an excellent batch.

“Now, if you would be so kind?” The lord gestured for Lysandir to begin.

Lysandir launched into their tale. It took some time for him to tell it. Barlo found himself yawning and covered his mouth before anyone could notice. The others looked tired as well, even the elves.

Lord Eranander was very interested in the news they had brought. He showed surprise at the presence of dark creatures so close to Melaquenya. He gave no reaction when Lysandir told him of their encounter with the Forsworn One in the Narrow Pass.

“I see that news of one of their kind so far south is not new to you,” the Learnéd One said.

“Sadly, it is not.” Lord Eranander shook his head. “The army that moves toward us and holds the Southern Passage is led by two of the evil creatures. We have no way of sending news to our kin in the north. It concerns me that the army has traveled so far south without a warning from Nal Huraseadro. I fear the worst.”