Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) (34 page)

That left the elves and the dwarves, who did not often involve themselves with the affairs of men and the outside world, particularly in the north. It would not be long before all the northlands were under the Fallen One’s control. By then, it would be too late for the elves and dwarves to band together and fight back.

Unable to see, move, or speak, Linwyn seethed in silence. For the first time in her life, she was helpless. She hated the feeling. Her frustrated thoughts ran in circles. If only the Wild Elves had joined their alliance; if only the Free Races weren’t so fragmented, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. And why couldn’t her captors speak a language she could understand? No matter how much she tried listening, she could make little sense of their words.

She had waited for another opportunity to escape, but she wasn’t left alone for a single moment. Even when they allowed her to relieve herself, she was watched by at least three men. It was humiliating.

Linwyn ground her teeth around her gag as she jounced along on some man’s shoulder. How were she and her six companions expected to save Lasniniar by themselves? It seemed an impossible task, especially at the moment.

She wondered what Iarion was doing. Was he tracking her so he could come to her rescue? Deep in her heart, Linwyn feared she knew the answer. No matter what, Iarion would continue with the quest, with or without her. It was his only focus.

And why shouldn’t it be? The fate of Lasniniar was at stake. Her own outcome was insignificant by comparison. A bitter taste flooded Linwyn’s mouth. For a moment, she almost panicked. What if all her companions had abandoned her?

Golaron. Her brother would never leave her behind. They were two halves of a greater whole. They needed each other.

Linwyn was jolted from her thoughts when her captors finally came to a halt. She was swung down from her perch to stand on bound feet. One of the men gripped her arm, holding her upright. When she heard harsh voices speaking a polyglot of the Common and Black Tongues, she knew they had reached their destination. She did not understand the Black Tongue, but she heard the word ‘
Narash
’ several times. The word sent chills down her spine.

“We come bearing a hostage for your
Narash
.” Linwyn recognized the voice of Hidar’s father. He was forced to speak Common to make himself understood. It seemed he did not know the Black Tongue, other than a few words.

“That was not the agreement,” a wicked-sounding voice said in the same language. A goblin perhaps? The voice seemed too high and well spoken for an ogre or troll.

“Many of my people were killed, including my own son,” Hidar’s father said, his voice harsh. “The men of my tribe would have been annihilated if we had held to the agreement. We were told they would be weak and easy prey.”

Linwyn felt a passing wave of sorrow and regret at the news of Hidar’s death. It was immediately followed by a thrill of fear. How many of her companions still lived?

“So you bring us this woman?” Linwyn could almost picture the sneer on the creature’s face. She wanted to struggle, but restrained herself. It seemed she was to be handed off. It would be better if her new captors underestimated her.

“Her companions will come to free her. We left an easy trail for them to follow. They will be lured here, bringing the prize you seek. You have an entire army. You should be able to deal with them.”

“The
Narash
will not like this,” the goblin grumbled. “Wait here.”

Linwyn heard the creature’s retreating footsteps. Several tense moments later, it returned.

“The
Narash
will see you now. Have your second-in-command bring the woman. Follow me.”

A rough hand grasped Linwyn’s arm, slinging her back into the now-familiar position over someone’s shoulder. It was a short walk. She heard the rattle of a heavy door open as they entered a building. It fell closed behind them with an ominous thud. A familiar wave of despair washed over her.

Once inside, she was unceremoniously dumped by her bearer. With her feet still bound, it was impossible to maintain her balance. Linwyn toppled to the floor. It had the cold, unforgiving feel of stone.

A flash of fury overcame her despair as she heard the goblin snicker. She suppressed her useless violent urges and forced herself to kneel.

A strange voice hovered at the edge of Linwyn’s hearing, cold and sibilant. It spoke in the Black Tongue.

“You have failed,” the goblin translated as the voice spoke. “You were supposed to bring them all.”

“I already explained—” Hidar’s father began.

The cold voice cut him off. “There were only seven of them,” the goblin said. “Now only six, according to you.”

“My son is dead!” The chief’s voice broke. “I brought you the woman. The others will come for her. Then our agreement will be fulfilled. I have done my best to hold my end of the bargain. Once the others arrive, I want to know you will keep yours. My tribe will be left to live in peace, without your lord’s influence.”

The sibilant voice filled the air, causing Linwyn to shudder.

“I will give you peace.” It spoke the Common Tongue.

She sensed a stirring of movement and heard Hidar’s father gasp for air. The feeling of despair was almost overwhelming.

“Go join your son.”

The choked gasping continued until Linwyn heard Hidar’s father slump to the floor beside her. Somehow, she managed to remain still. The sense of hopelessness receded to its original level. Linwyn nearly wept in relief.

“My master hopes you have better sense than your predecessor,” the goblin said. The chief’s second-in-command must have nodded. “Good. You will order your tribe to stay here and with our army. If your chief was correct, and the others are coming here, we will need every able body we can get. We will hold to the original bargain. If the others my master requires are captured, you and your men will be free to go. If your chief was wrong, and they do not come, you will be sent to the front lines when we march on the south.”

“What of the woman?” the man stammered.

Linwyn could hear the evil grin in the creature’s voice. “Do not worry. She is in good hands. Now go.”

Linwyn heard the sound of the door opening and closing as the man left. Linwyn remained silent, not knowing what to expect. Rough hands untied her gag and removed her blindfold. She had to blink several times before she could make out her surroundings.

The room was dark, save for two torches burning in brackets on the wall. It was a great hall, most likely where the Lord of Nal Nungalid had once held audience. The large windows were covered with heavy velvet curtains. All other ornamentation had already been stripped as plunder.

The body of Hidar’s father lay on the floor. His face was contorted in a silent scream, his limbs twisted in unnatural rigor. There wasn’t a mark on him. A goblin stood beside her, the creature that had led Hidar’s father here. It loomed over her, showing its pointed teeth.

“Welcome to Nal Nungalid,” it sneered. “I hope you enjoy your stay.” If the goblin hoped to see Linwyn cower at his words, he was disappointed. Fury rose within her, defying her instinct to yield.

She spat at his feet. “I find your hospitality lacking. No matter. I do not intend to take advantage of it for long.”

The goblin raised its hand to strike her, but a voice from the shadows stopped it in midair. Linwyn did not need a translation this time. The meaning was clear.

“Leave us.”

The goblin flashed her a look of hatred before going out the door.

A moment of deep silence followed. Then a dark figure detached itself from the shadows surrounding it to stand before her. The meaning of the word ‘
Narash
’ became clear.

It was a Forsworn One.

The deep hood of its cloak kept its features from view, but the familiar despair filled her, suffusing her body and mind. It loomed over her, saying nothing.

Linwyn had never felt so alone. She swallowed and felt a single tear slide down her cheek unbidden. If she thought she had known helplessness and fear before, it was nothing compared to this. It was more than she could bear. With a choked sob, she bowed her head in submission.

–
Chapter Thirty-Four –

Diplomacy

Three days had passed since Iarion had sent his gull messenger. On the first day, he, Barlo, and Sinstari had climbed down the bluffs that led to the beach and set up camp to wait for the answer Iarion sought.

He refused to tell Barlo what he was up to. He did not want to raise his friend’s hopes only to have them dashed. They had seen no one since the battle with Hidar’s tribe. They could only hope the others were safe.

Iarion felt a surge of guilt at leaving them behind and pushed it away. He was giving them a chance to survive. He looked out at the endless expanse of ocean. Would he ever see any of them again?

Such thoughts were forced from his mind when he saw sails on the horizon. Relief washed over him. His message had been answered.

“Pack your things,” he said to Barlo. “It’s time to break camp.”

“Where are we going? To ask the fish for help? We’ve waited here for three days without any explanation from you and now you want to break camp. Crazy elf.” Barlo continued to grumble as he packed.

The ship made good time. Soon even Barlo could see it. He gaped in amazement.

“Well, I’ll be.”

The trireme dropped anchor before reaching the shallows. It bore gold-edged, triangle sails and a blue flag emblazoned with a silver shell. A lifeboat was lowered over the side and rowed to shore by two elves, while a third sat between them. Iarion ran into the water to help pull it in.

Once the boat was safely on land, the third elf stepped forward. His long, silver hair, blue-green eyes, and gleaming fish mail brought back a flood of memories.

“Alfiabalas.” Iarion embraced him. “You came.”

“Iarion.” The other elf smiled. “It’s been a long time. I had to come. The ladies would’ve seen me drawn and quartered if I’d ignored your message.”

Iarion noticed Barlo’s frown and realized they had lapsed into Elvish. He switched back to Common.

“This is my companion, Barlo.” A head-butt against his leg reminded him of another presence. “And this is Sinstari. We need your aid.”

“I guessed as much.” Alfiabalas’s speech became halting in the unfamiliar language. He made a bow to Barlo and the wildcat. “It is an honor to meet friends of Iarion. Now what is it a humble Sea Elf can do for you?”

“A humble Sea Elf indeed!” Iarion laughed. “From the looks of your ship, your crew, and your attire, I would have to guess you are now the captain of the
Rasadar
fleet!”

Alfiabalas shrugged with a smile. “Your guess is correct.”

“Then you are exactly the elf I need to speak with. Barlo and I are on a dangerous quest to thwart the Fallen One. We have just fled his domain with the Stariquenya.

“There was a battle in the Daran Falnun, and we were separated from our companions. Now the Lesser Men search for us. We need passage to the south so we can make our way to Melaquenya to reunite the Quenya before Saviadro strikes. I was hoping you could at least sail us past the Barrier Mountains, if not all the way to the Rillin and the gateway of Melaquenya.” The words tumbled from Iarion’s mouth.

Alfiabalas’s eyes widened and several moments passed before he spoke.

“If what you say is true, I would be glad to aid you. But Feoras has charged me with bringing you to Rasdaria. He desires to speak to you, as do several others.” The elf gave Iarion a suggestive wink before turning serious. “Besides, we would have to go there anyway to get resupplied before I took you on a longer voyage.”

Iarion considered. It would be nice to visit Rasdaria, but he chafed at the thought of delay. Still, if the Lord and Lady of the isle allowed Alfiabalas to sail him south, it would save time and potential interference.

It would also be good to see Feoras. The Learnéd One of Water could be helpful in fulfilling their quest. Barlo waited in silence, trusting Iarion to make the decision.

“All right.” Iarion sighed. “Let’s go.”

“What about the dwarf?” Alfiabalas asked. He had switched back to Elvish.

“What do you mean?” Iarion said in Common.

Alfiabalas looked uncomfortable and forced himself to speak the same language. “I am sorry, but no dwarf has ever set foot on our isle. You may bring Sinstari, but the dwarf must stay behind.”

“What?” Barlo spluttered. “Now let me get this straight, Master Elf. You want to leave me behind, but you’re willing to take
the cat?
”

“I am sorry.” Alfiabalas said once more, flushing as he did so. “It is unprecedented.”

“Just because it’s unprecedented does not mean it cannot be done,” Iarion said. “Alfiabalas, the only reason it has never happened before is because there was never need. There is now. Barlo has given up everything to stay at my side. I cannot leave him behind. He has walked the Fey Wood, and been a guest of Lady Iadrawyn and Lord Valanandir in Melaquenya. Surely he is worthy.” The old prejudices of his race were starting to wear on him.

Alfiabalas frowned. “I do not like it, but if he has met Valanandir and Iadrawyn, who am I to turn him away? I have no idea what my lord and lady will say, never mind Feoras.” He sighed. “Very well. Gather your things and get in the boat.”