Light Chasers: A Novel of Lasniniar

Chapter Seventeen-1

Chapter Seventeen

Hunting the Hunters

Early the following morning, Lodariel gathered the twelve elves she had chosen from the home guard to accompany her on the scouting expedition. They waited while she exchanged a few last words with Daroandir. She had selected each of them for their steadiness as well as their tracking abilities. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by any enthusiasts on this mission.

The predawn air was chill with the bite of autumn. A rolling fog covered the grassy plain. Lodariel pulled the collar of her gray cloak closer around her neck. She was eager to be gone, but only so she could get this journey over with and return to Vila Eadros where she belonged, protecting Valanandir and Iadrawyn.

“Don’t let them leave the village, unless you escort them personally, and only then if they are meeting with Malarin,” she said to Daroandir. Although she knew he was reliable, it made her feel better to repeat the obvious.

“I won’t,” Daroandir said with long-suffering patience.

In many ways, Lodariel regretted leaving Daroandir behind. He was a talented tracker, and there was no one she trusted more to guard her back. By the same token, he was the only one she trusted to look after the village and its leaders while she was gone.

Lodariel stopped herself from giving more useless advice. She knew she was only prolonging the inevitable. She looked into his familiar, silver gaze.

“Thank you,” she said. He would know what she meant. They clasped forearms before turning to acknowledge Valanandir and Iadrawyn, who stood nearby.

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Valanandir said with a worried frown. “Remember, this is a scouting mission. Observe and report only.”

Since Lodariel knew Valanandir meant well and truly cared for her well-being, she restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

She turned to face Iadrawyn. “Have you seen anything that will help?” Lodariel asked. Iadrawyn had been looking particularly haunted these last few days.

Iadrawyn closed her eyes. “For you, I see a safe return. But I do not see a safe journey. There is a choice to be made, which will affect the outcome. Your decision will determine who will live.” Her bottomless, green eyes opened. “I’m sorry I cannot give you more details. The paths are shrouded to me.”

Iadrawyn’s words disquieted Lodariel. It was supposed to be a straightforward mission. “Thank you,” she said. “I will remember your warning.”

She embraced Iadrawyn and clasped hands with Valanandir before going to meet her hand-picked squad. The assorted men and women wore matching, gray cloaks. Their hushed conversations died as she approached. Lodariel decided not to waste any time on motivational speeches. They knew why they had been chosen and what the mission was.

“We fan out at the southwestern border of the village and work outward. A confirmed drakhal sign has been found one hour’s walk from the village in that direction. I want to know how close to us they got. We continue to work our way toward the original sighting and if we don’t find anything closer to the village, we pick up the trail from there. If you see anything suspicious, call me over immediately. Now let’s go.”

Although Lodariel didn’t think they would find anything close to the village, she had to be sure. She sensed the drakhalu were being cautious this time. It was unlikely they would come close enough to the village to be seen by the home guard.

The next few hours passed slowly. It was tedious looking for a trail in the tall grass, and the fog didn’t help matters. As expected, no definitive sign was found. There was the odd light footprint, but like Daroandir, there were other elves who traveled outside Vila Eadros during the day to gather food and supplies. Elven and drakhal footprints were essentially alike. Both walked lightly and were tall with slight frames.

Her group finally arrived at the carcass Daroandir had discovered. Lodariel knelt to get a closer look, ignoring the smell of rotting meat. It was a gopher—one of the rodent types that lived on the plains. She estimated it had been killed about three days ago, judging by the progress of the maggots. Sure enough, there were twin puncture wounds on its neck, crusted with dried blood. There were no other signs of violence.

She stood and looked southwest. The grassland stretched far into the distance before ending at the northern bank of the Riliara. Even for an elf traveling alone, it was a journey of a day and a half. Where would a drakhal take shelter during the daylight hours? There were no caves or trees to provide protection from the sun. She would have expected the creatures to remain under the murky cover of the Dira Nelar as far north as possible before crossing the river into elven territory, as they had the last time they attacked the village. The swamp was littered with caves. But the southern border of Vila Eadros was also the most closely guarded. It made sense for them to try a different angle.

Where were they hiding? The other elves waited for her to complete her inspection.

“Join up in pairs and sweep outward. Leave no blade of grass unturned. We have a clear sign here. We must find the trail.”

Lodariel followed her instincts, trying to determine where the creature would have gone next. She turned south and bent low to the ground. The area around the carcass held no prints. There had to be something…

A small, dark spot caught her eye as she brushed the grass back with her hand. She knelt to inspect it. A small trail of black marred a single blade of grass. Wetting her finger, she swiped the blade and tasted it. It was dried blood. The droplet pattern suggested it had fallen from above. Since there was no sign of other predators nearby, it was most likely from the drakhal’s meal.

“I have something here,” she called out. “Narrow your sweep to this direction.” She pointed southward.

Moments later, one of the pairs found a faint boot impression traveling southward. Lodariel felt the familiar thrill that accompanied the discovery of a trail. It was only a matter of time before they discovered the drakhal camp.

The next two days were slow going. Although they had the beginning of a trail and a suspected direction to work with, they couldn’t afford to make assumptions. They didn’t commit to any direction until a sign was found. Those signs were few and far between, but on the third day, they made a breakthrough.

Lodariel’s group had been moving steadily southward. They were perhaps a day’s march from Vila Eadros when one of the elves gave a shout, waving her over. Grateful for a reason to stand, Lodariel straightened her legs from where she had been crouching and went to investigate. At first, she could see nothing unusual. Then the scout parted the tall grass to reveal something she never expected.

A burrow had been dug into the ground. The entrance was on an angle and large enough for an elf to use. Intrigued, she dropped into it to investigate. Although the opening was narrow, the interior was wide enough for two to lie side by side. The soil had been tightly packed. Although it made her flesh creep, Lodariel crawled inside. Lying on the earthen floor within, she looked up. With the tall grass above and the angle of the tunnel, no daylight reached the chamber below. She wondered how many more warrens existed in the surrounding area.

Unable to bear it any longer, she scrambled back to the surface and brushed the dirt from her clothes.

“There are no signs to confirm, but I think we are looking for two drakhalu,” she said to her scouts, who had gathered around her. “I don’t know why else anyone would go to the trouble of digging a hole of that size. We continue south. Keep your eyes open.”

As their hunt took them beyond the burrow, the trail became more distinct. Although they didn’t find two sets together, they began to find boot impressions more frequently. The creatures were less cautious the closer they got to the edges of their domain. Another day passed before Lodariel and her scouts reached the northern bank of the Riliara.

Storm clouds were moving in from the west, which gave their task new urgency. Lodariel estimated the rain was only a few hours off. They had to find the direction of the trail on the south side of the river before it washed away. Tracking the drakhalu through the shifting fens of the Dira Nelar would be difficult enough as it was.

On the damp bank of the river, they finally found two sets of prints side by side. With a clear trail to follow, the elves were able to make up some lost time. The prints led to a narrow ford before disappearing into the water, but immediately resumed on the opposite bank.

Now Lodariel and her unit were on the south side of the river, on the edge of the Dira Nelar. The vast swamp was shrouded in a misty haze. It’s thick, rotting stink filled her nostrils. Lodariel did not relish the idea of continuing their hunt in enemy territory, but they couldn’t turn back now. She took a deep breath through her mouth and led the elves forward.

As the mist surrounded them, it was the constant hum of insects she noticed first. She slapped her neck as one tried to bite her. Only drakhalu would be comfortable among such bloodsucking creatures. She felt the tension in her group increase as the view of the Riliara faded from sight behind them and they were surrounded by the murk. The elves held their weapons ready as they searched. A strange flapping sound from overhead made them freeze. Lodariel let out a relieved sigh when she realized it was only a bat.

Although the trail was difficult to follow, it was more or less intact. The elves were traveling even slower now, not only to avoid missing clues, but to test the ground in front of them before moving forward. Many patches of land were no more than vegetation floating on top of the water. An hour passed before they found something interesting.

“Look at this,” Beliarani, her second-in-command said in a hushed tone, beckoning Lodariel. “The second set of prints splits off here and starts heading east.”

“We have found more of the other pair continuing south.” Lodariel frowned. This was something she hadn’t anticipated. Why would the drakhalu split up?

“Which pair do we follow?”

Iadrawyn’s words echoed in Lodariel’s memory. She had a bad feeling this was the choice she had meant. She mulled it over for a few moments before forcing herself to make the choice she knew was right. She could not afford to second-guess herself here. She didn’t want to be the one to send her people to their death, but that was part of the burden of command. She would have no way of knowing whether she had chosen wisely until it was too late.

“We can’t afford to ignore either trail, and with the rain on its way, we must act quickly.” She looked to Beliarani. “You will take six others and follow this trail to see where it leads. If it’s a dead end, come back and find us. If you find something important, return to Vila Eadros and report to Valanandir and Iadrawyn.”

She could tell the other elf didn’t like it, but knew it was what had to be done. Beliarani lowered her head, accepting Lodariel’s command. Moments later, their group was split. Six elves followed Beliarani east into the mist, while the other five remained with Lodariel. Lodariel wasted no time worrying whether she had chosen well. Only time could provide the answer.

Steeling herself, she led her remaining troops along the southern trail. It wasn’t long before it began to rain. Lodariel raised the hood of her cloak and continued her hunched over sweep of the marshy ground. At this point, her quarry would have been traveling for several hours since their stopover in the burrow they had discovered. The drakhal’s trail should be leading to shelter soon. Even in the gloomy fens, the occasional patch of sunlight could pierce the clouds, making daytime travel dangerous for drakhalu. Lodariel hoped they could find the drakhal’s shelter before the trail washed away entirely.