Light Chasers: A Novel of Lasniniar

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

The Gathering Storm

Iadrawyn sat bolt upright in a damp sweat. It was several moments before the familiar, shadow-cloaked surroundings of her bedchamber intruded on her senses. Realizing she was clutching at her blankets, she forced herself to release her grip. She took several deep breaths to slow the terrified beating of her heart. She was safe, in her hut in Vila Eadros. Although she knew this to be true, she couldn’t shake the fearful sense of foreboding that loomed over her.

Realizing sleep was no longer an option, she rolled off her pallet to stand. Despite the woven grass mats strewn across the floor, her feet were cold. The chill of the packed earth beneath the mats seeped up her legs. Winter was coming.

Although the turning of the seasons had wreaked havoc among the Light Elves during their first year together, it was now a familiar cycle. However, this winter seemed to be approaching sooner than most. Iadrawyn slipped on a pair of fur-lined slippers and a woolen cloak before going to stand at the window.

She twitched the curtains aside to look at the sky, which still seemed wondrous to her after all these years. The moon was in the west, but the sky was still dark. The stars shimmered overhead like diamonds in the velvet darkness, shrouded only by the occasional cloud. It was several hours before dawn.

With a sigh, she let go of the curtain and made her way on silent feet into the common room. The embers of the fire glowed a dull orange. Kneeling on one of the cushions surrounding it, she used a stout branch to stir them to life, blowing on them as she added more fuel from the pile. In moments, tongues of flame sprang up, crackling merrily, the smoke spiraling upward to drift out of the hole in the arched center of the ceiling. She hung her kettle over the fire to make some tea. After what she had seen in her dream, she doubted she would be able to sleep.

It was three years ago to the day that the drakhalu had invaded Vila Eadros. It was strange when she thought about it. It seemed like it had just happened yesterday, and at the same time she felt as though an entire lifetime had passed. Perhaps the tragic anniversary was what had prompted the dream.

Deep down, Iadrawyn knew it was more than just a dream. She had spent more than enough time communing with the Quenya over the last few years to recognize the clarity and feel of a vision. Her mind reeled. What she had seen was not possible. Perhaps it had simply been garbled by her lingering guilt. Even with her special relationship with the Quenya, she had been unable to keep her people safe. So many had died that night…

She knew she could not tell Valanandir what she had seen. The implications would only distract him. He had enough on his mind as it was.

The Light Elf numbers had swelled since the invasion. Those Shadow Elves who survived the frustrated drakhal attacks on their scattered tribes had arrived at Vila Eadros as refugees and undergone the transformation of the Quenya. Now all the remaining elves were Light Elves. As far as Iadrawyn knew, the Shadow Elves had become extinct. Although the unification would make the elven people stronger, it had come at a high price.

Iadrawyn’s family still had not come. What little information she managed to gather from the terrified Wood Elf arrivals indicated that even after her warning sent by the Quenya, her father and eldest brother had insisted the drakhalu were powerful allies to be negotiated with. They had refused to leave their wood. By the time Iaralys and Linlevni realized the danger, it would have been too late to escape.

Although Iadrawyn grieved to learn the fate of her mother, father, and Linlevni, the news of Eranalfia’s death hit her hard. She had always held out hope her brother would one day arrive at Vila Eadros so she could share the wonders of the Quenya with him. He was the only one in her family who had ever tried to understand and stand up for her. If not for him, she and Valanandir might never have escaped her village. She felt his loss keenly.

Iadrawyn pushed away her now-familiar grief and returned her thoughts to her vision. It could not be possible. Yet the presence of the Quenya in what she had seen warned her otherwise. She painstakingly went over the vision and memorized every detail. Even though it seemed impossible, the Quenya had never been wrong before. This realization renewed her fear.

Regardless whether the vision was accurate, Iadrawyn knew she must do everything in her power to prevent it from coming to pass.

Hours later, when the sky had lightened and the rest of the village was waking, Iadrawyn was visited by Valanandir, Lodariel, and Daroandir. They met every morning to discuss the morale and safety of the village since the invasion. Now that all the surviving elves lived in one location, it was even more important they remain vigilant against attack, or they could be wiped out entirely.

As usual, each of Iadrawyn’s visitors brought something to share for breakfast. Soon there were toasted tubers, berries, and bacon from a wild boar. Daroandir had also managed to find some quail eggs. Although it was a hearty feast, they ate in silence. Three years ago, Numril would have sat with them. The memory of his death weighed heavily on all of them.

Valanandir was particularly withdrawn, his gaze unfocused as he ate. Although Iadrawyn’s heart bled to see him in such pain, she was relieved he was too distracted to notice her disquiet brought on by the previous night’s vision. She did not want to tell him what she had seen, but he was usually perceptive of her moods, and she had no desire to lie to him. She was not even sure if she could.

Once they had finished eating, Lodariel broke the silence.

“Three years ago today, we were attacked,” she said. “The people will have their feast of remembrance tonight, but by tomorrow, they will have already forgotten they were ever in danger.”

“Nothing has happened in the years since that night to make them believe the drakhalu will return,” Daroandir said. “Vila Eadros has become a place of peace and prosperity. No one wishes to dwell on the dark times.”

“Except maybe to blame others for them.” Lodariel’s words were bitter. There were still some who held Valanandir and Iadrawyn responsible for not saving their loved ones.

“We know it is only a matter of time before the drakhalu return,” Iadrawyn said. “I have sensed a growing presence of darkness. Have there been signs?”

“The home guard hasn’t seen anything specific, but there has been a growing sense of unease during the night watch,” Lodariel mused. “Many have said they feel as though they are being watched.”

“That’s hardly solid.” Valanandir frowned.

“There are other ways to see than with your eyes,” Iadrawyn chided. In her mind, the wariness of the home guard only confirmed what she already suspected.

Daroandir cleared his throat. “When I was gathering eggs this morning, I came across the carcass of one of the rodents of the grasslands.”

“Rodents have many predators.” Valanandir’s protest was gentle.

“It had been drained.” Daroandir’s quiet words met complete silence. “I checked its neck. It bore the mark.”

“Where did you find it?” Lodariel’s voice was grim.

“It was only an hour’s walk southwest.”

“Valanandir, this is serious.” Lodariel put a hand on Valanandir’s arm.

Valanandir sighed. “I know. But what can we tell the village? They do not want to believe the drakhalu will ever return. We can’t go to them with a dead rodent and a bad feeling.”

“We cannot simply wait for them to arrive!” The former Wild Elf’s green eyes flashed.

“We can’t lash out blindly either,” Valanandir said. “For the moment, the drakhalu are unaware we suspect their presence. As soon as we increase our defenses, they will know, and we will lose what little advantage we have. We don’t even know how many of them are out there, or where the attack will come from.”

“Then we must find that out,” Lodariel said.

“You’re right.” Valanandir’s agreement clearly startled Lodariel. “We need to send a scouting expedition. It must be small, and led by the best scout we have.”

“It would have to be someone my people would trust,” Lodariel said. “They won’t just follow anyone we choose.” She frowned in thought. “I have a few decent trackers, but I’m not sure whether any of them have leadership material…”

“That is why you will lead the expedition,” Valanandir said.

“What?” Lodariel spluttered.

“You are the best scout and tracker in the village. The home guard will listen to you. It has to be you.” Valanandir’s voice was firm.

“But who will make sure the village is guarded? Who will take care of you and Iadrawyn? I won’t leave you defenseless.” Lodariel crossed her arms with a scowl.

“We are in the midst of the village,” Valanandir said. “And we are hardly defenseless. Since you will only be taking a small group with you, the rest of the home guard can stay behind.”

“And who will command them? If I’m only taking a small group with me, then I will want them to be my best people. You can’t just put anyone in charge. This won’t work, Valanandir.”

“There has to be someone you can trust. Perhaps I could command them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lodariel snorted. “You may have a tactical mind, but you have never been in charge of an army. You have no idea about all the little things involved in organizing, training, and leading an armed force. Stick to the big ideas, and leave the execution to others. I won’t leave you.”

“I will do it,” Daroandir said. Lodariel’s eyes narrowed as she considered.

After a few moments, she nodded. “The home guard would listen to you. You have helped train many of them. I also trust your judgment. I’m not sure if these two could take care of themselves if left on their own.” She jerked her chin toward Valanandir and Iadrawyn.

“Excuse me?” Valanandir raised an eyebrow.

“You do have a habit of getting into trouble,” Lodariel said. “Someone needs to look after you. If I can’t do it, it might as well be Daroandir. He’s the only one I would trust.”

“Thank you,” Daroandir murmured.

Iadrawyn’s thoughts drifted as her friends bickered over what elves would go with Lodariel on her scouting mission and who would stay behind to guard the village. The disturbing images that had woken her earlier crept back to the surface, blotting out everything else…

Valanandir was kneeling in the glade of the Quenya. A fallen elf lay in his arms. Valanandir’s shoulders were shaking with heartbroken sobs. Sensing her presence, he looked up at her from across the clearing. The skin of the elf he cradled was pale, so pale, with only a hint of its former, golden hue. The elf was male. His frame was unnaturally gaunt, and his long, white hair was matted and tangled. As Valanandir shifted to look at her, the stranger in his embrace rolled to face her, revealing blue eyes, wide open in a disbelieving death stare.

The dead elf was Numril.