Chapter Three
1237 Words
Chapter Three
Facing the Unthinkable
Daroandir fled through the darkened trees of Melaquenya with his sword drawn. The sounds of the battlefield were far behind him.
Silvaranwyn! If anything has happened to her...
His mind screamed his mate’s name in an endless litany as he ran, his red-gold braids streaming over his shoulders behind him. If only he had a link with her like the one he shared with Lodariel... He shook his head and kept running. The forest around him was quiet and empty. The only elves still awake at this hour were guarding the border—like he should have been. But the moment he saw the magical shield over the forest collapse, he had abandoned his post without a second thought. Silvaranwyn was all that mattered.
He rounded a large tree and collided with another figure running in his direction. He jumped back, his sword held ready. If something had happened to the Quenya, then the enemy had struck from within.
“Daroandir!” A familiar female voice gasped his name. He made out Andirlynia’s features in the darkness. “Thank the Quenya. I’ve been looking for you.”
“What’s happened?” Daroandir demanded in a tight voice. “I saw the shield fluctuate and then fail...” He swallowed. Silvaranwyn had been taking her shift maintaining the shield.
“An elf from Mother’s past has returned somehow,” Andirlynia said with a shake of her head. “She believes he has taken control of the Quenya.”
Daroandir felt a sudden jolt of unease. The violet taint he had noticed on the shield before it had fallen tugged at his memory. “What elf?”
“Eruvalion.”
Daroandir gaped. “But that’s impossible! Your mother convinced him to commune fully with the Quenya back on Ralvaniar. It consumed him. I was there.”
“It makes no sense to me, either.” Andirlynia shrugged. “But Mother was convinced. She sent Father away to keep him safe. I ran off to find you, but he’s gone to the Glade of the Quenya to check on—”
“Silvaranwyn.” The name emerged from Daroandir’s lips as a choked sob. “We must go to her!”
He sprang off into the darkness toward the glade. Andirlynia followed him with a curse.
“We have to be careful,” she said between breaths in a low voice as she ran beside him. “There are some who might welcome a new leader of the Light Elves. The decision to stand against the Unborn rather than accept their demand to hand over Iarion hasn’t been popular.”
“I wish Iarion were here now,” Daroandir muttered.
“Eransinta says he’s returned,” Andirlynia said. “She sensed him, but she doesn’t know where he is. Daroandir, what is happening on the battlefield?”
Daroandir focused on her words, using them to keep various images of a wounded Silvaranwyn at bay.
“Dragons have arrived.”
“Dragons!” Andirlynia shook her head in wonder. “Malarin and the others?”
Daroandir nodded. “I saw Malarin among them.” She had been his friend during his earlier incarnation on Ralvaniar. He would have recognized her anywhere.
“I thought Silvaranwyn was a bit mad when she told us about hatching some dragon eggs on a fire island somewhere,” Andirlynia said, as if to herself.
“They’re targeting the mage-priests,” Daroandir said. “I couldn’t see her, but I sensed Lodariel was up there with them.”
“Well at least something is finally going our way.” Andirlynia’s voice fell to a whisper. “We should stop talking now.”
They had reached the edge of the Meeting Glade where Iadrawyn and Valanandir held court during the daylight hours. The Glade of the Quenya lay just beyond it.
Daroandir paused at the edge of the trees, his golden eyes narrowed in an attempt to pierce the shadows. He could see no one in the empty darkness. He ran forward on silent feet with his sword still drawn. Andirlynia followed a few steps behind.
He looked over his shoulder to meet her gaze as they approached the entrance to the Glade of the Quenya. It was usually guarded at all times by a pair of elves. The position was partly ceremonial, but also harkened back to times of betrayal, when the Quenya had been threatened from within. The memory of the Light Elves was long. No sentry would have left their post lightly.
What has happened here? Did Eruvalion send the sentries away?
Daroandir saw no signs of a body or a struggle. He rushed toward the entrance to the glade and ducked inside. What he saw within made him stop in his tracks. His sword hung limply at his side.
The enormous, ancient tree that housed the source of the elves’ magic loomed overhead. A flickering, violet light ghosted from within the hollow of its trunk, casting the glade in eerie shadow. An elf with long, white hair similar to Andirlynia’s knelt at the tree’s base, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs.
“Father?” Andirlynia spoke the word in a horrified whisper.
Valanandir turned, revealing his tear-stained face. “He has killed her.” His hoarse voice was almost unrecognizable.
Daroandir felt his feet start moving. They seemed to carry him to Valanandir’s side of their own volition. The Lord of the Light Elves cradled a limp form in his arms. The skull had been crushed, and matted blood stained the long, golden hair streaming over the elf woman’s shoulders a dark red. More dried rivulets of blood trailed from her nose, eyes, and pointed ears, further marring her features. But the full swell of her belly, and the delicately wrought starsilver necklace hanging around her neck confirmed the horrible truth.
“Silvaranwyn!” Daroandir fell to his knees, his sword forgotten. He reached out to stroke her matted hair.
How? How did this happen? Of all places in Lasniniar, she should have been safe here!
“Father, please.” Andirlynia’s gentle voice seemed to come from a great distance. “May I see her?”
Valanandir climbed awkwardly to his feet and stumbled away with a nod. He stood with his back to the tree, as though trying to deny what he had seen there.
Andirlynia joined Daroandir beside her younger sister’s broken form. She took Silvaranwyn’s limp hand in her own and closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Daroandir didn’t know how long they knelt there. It could have been minutes or hours. Time had lost all meaning for him. Not only had he lost Silvaranwyn, but the two children she was carrying as well. His grief threatened to swallow him.
Andirlynia’s eyes snapped open. “We must leave. We cannot linger here.”
“What?” Daroandir croaked in disbelief. “I will not leave her!”
“She is right,” Valanandir said in an emotionless voice. “If we stay, it is only a matter of time before Eruvalion and whatever followers he has managed to gather find us. Dying at their hands would serve little purpose.”
Daroandir rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists. “Silvaranwyn is dead!”
Andirlynia remained on her knees, holding her sister’s hand. Her brow was furrowed. “The Quenya is corrupted, but I can still access its core on a low level.” She spoke the words slowly, as if in half a trance.
“What good does that do?” Daroandir demanded. “Can it bring her back?”
Andirlynia shook her head. Her expression was strained, as if she were listening to a distant voice only she could hear. “Barlo? But Barlo’s dead...”
“What are you babbling about Barlo for?” Daroandir didn’t care anymore who heard him shouting.
“Oh!” Andirlynia’s eyes widened as she gazed into the distance. “The burrow.” She shook herself and looked up at her father and Daroandir. “We must leave. Now.” She rose to her feet and brushed her knees before handing Daroandir his sword. “You will have to carry her.”
Daroandir sheathed his sword. “What are you talking about? What burrow?”
“Andirlynia?” Valanandir asked in a wary voice. “What just happened?”
Andirlynia squared her shoulders. “I saw what happened to Silvaranwyn. The Quenya showed me. We need to get her out of here before Eruvalion comes back to finish the job.”
Daroandir felt his chest tighten. Valanandir gaped.
“You mean—?” Daroandir shook his head, unable to finish the question.
Andirlynia met his anguished gaze without flinching and nodded.
“She’s still alive.”
- Writer
