The World of Lasniniar Starter Collection E-Book

Jacquelyn Smith

• Herausgeber: WaywardScribe Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A sweeping, epic fantasy series of magic, war, and friendship, spanning thousands of years...

Immerse yourself in a realm of elves, dwarves, vampires, and dragons in this starter collection of novels from the World of Lasniniar series by the author of the Fatal Empire series, Jacquelyn Smith:

Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 1)
Kinslayer (The World of Lasniniar Book 2)
Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 3)

Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 1)

Valanandir’s throat spasms as he tries not to choke.

He spits out a salty mouthful of seawater and grips some nearby rigging one-handed as the ship rocks beneath him.

Under skies devoid of moon or sun, Valanandir fights for his life alongside his Sea Elf crew. But his ship already burns like a funeral pyre in the middle of the storm-tossed ocean.

...And far more than he realizes depends on his survival.

Lose yourself in the thoroughly imagined World of Lasniniar with this first novel in the series.

Kinslayer (The World of Lasniniar Book 2)

Lasniniar. A new continent the elves can call home after the fall of Ralvaniar.

They hope to finally find peace under the leadership of Iadrawyn and Valanandir—far from the dark creatures they left behind in the magical cataclysm. A simple enough wish.

But darkness comes in many forms. And not even Iadrawyn and Valanandir know the hidden enemy that lurks within the elves’ midst.

...Or how far they must go to stop him.

The elves’ epic struggle evolves to a new level, drawing enemies and allies alike in this sweeping, second novel from the World of Lasniniar fantasy series.

Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 3)

Midnight. The world of Lasniniar lies in silence, except for the patter of the falling rain.

Iarion walks alone on Traitor’s Road. His elven eyes pierce the darkness. The Jagged Mountains loom over him. Their oppressive shadow adds to his unease.

...That, and the goblin arrow wound burning his shoulder.

Goblins. In the heart of the continent, in friendly territory. In Lasniniar, that can only mean one thing.

A warning of dark days to come.

Meet a new generation of heroes in this third novel in the World of Lasniniar epic fantasy series.

Leseprobe

THE WORLD OF LASNINIAR STARTER COLLECTION

BOOKS 1-3

JACQUELYN SMITH

WAYWARDSCRIBE PRESS

For my husband, Mark.

Thank you for always believing in me. I couldn’t have done this without you.

For Mom and Uncle Al.

Thanks for giving me the push I needed to take the plunge into the world of indie publishing. If not for you, my books would probably still be hidden away on my computer, unread.

For all my loyal readers.

Thank you for coming along with me on this epic journey! It means more to me than I could possibly say.

The World of Lasniniar Starter Collection

Copyright © 2023 Jacquelyn Smith

Published by WaywardScribe Press

Cover and layout copyright © Jacquelyn Smith

Cover design by Jacquelyn Smith/WaywardScribe Press

Cover art copyright © Refluo, Elena Schweitzer/Dreamstime

Light Chasers: A Novel of Lasniniar

Copyright © 2023 Jacquelyn Smith

First published in February, 2012

Kinslayer: A Novel of Lasniniar

Copyright © 2023 Jacquelyn Smith

First published in September, 2018

Soul Seeker: A Novel of Lasniniar

Copyright © 2023 Jacquelyn Smith

First published in October, 2011

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

CONTENTS

Light Chasers

The World of Lasniniar Book 1

Kinslayer

The World of Lasniniar Book 2

Soul Seeker

The World of Lasniniar Book 3

Storm Rider

About Jacquelyn Smith

LIGHT CHASERS

THE WORLD OF LASNINIAR BOOK 1

CHAPTER ONE

FIRE AND WATER

Valanandir’s throat spasmed as he tried not to choke. He spat out a salty mouthful of seawater, coughing. The unnatural mixture of air and water burned his throat and lungs. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his stinging eyes. He gripped some nearby rigging one-handed and flung out his other arm for balance as the ship’s deck rocked beneath his booted feet. His vision slowly came into focus.

The sky was completely dark, as it always was. Most of the ship’s lanterns had gone out. As luck would have it, there were other sources of light available, creating a flickering twilight. Enormous forms swooped overhead on dark wings that beat the air, churning the waters below into a frenzy. Sporadic jets of flame blasted down from above, punctuating the darkness as the serpentine juggernauts made one pass after another, their long necks and tails writhing. Bright, slitted eyes peered out from scaled faces, picking out their next target. They were glaurinu—dragons.

Despite the frigid water soaking him to the bone, Valanandir’s skin felt hot. The ship was on fire. Other vessels, already engulfed in flame, lit up the water like torches.

A shocked numbness washed over him as he stood frozen in place, unnoticed for the time being. He wondered if this was what his parents had felt like before they had been killed in battle. According to the stories, they had gone down fighting against the dark army, but his own attackers were hopelessly out of reach.

Would he be remembered as his parents had been? He had no siblings to carry on his memory. The only blood family he had were his aunt and uncle, who would be devastated when they learned his fate. They had always hoped he would stay with them on Arindaria among the fisherfolk of the isle, but the call to follow in his parents’ footsteps had been too strong.

Now he was out on the waters of the sea under attack by dragons of the dark army—just another doomed skirmish in a war that had been raging since the dawn of time between the creatures of light and darkness.

Screams of panicked agony pierced Valanandir’s awareness. He pushed wet strands of long, silver hair from his eyes, tucking them behind pointed ears with his free hand. Bodies lay strewn about the deck of the ship, bloody, charred, and lifeless. Others floated on the waves.

He could see figures running about the decks of the other ships, haloed in flames. Their cries echoed across the water, only to be cut short as they jumped overboard. Even the sea held no escape. The unnatural waves were too strong, even for the crafty Sea Elves. The wounded shadows soon slipped beneath the surface.

Valanandir had escaped this fate thus far, somehow unnoticed by the relentless dragons. He remained hidden in the shadows, his dusky skin helping to camouflage him. But this had not saved any of his companions, and soon his ship would be consumed. If he could last long enough, perhaps the dragons would leave and he could try to make his escape.

As the cries of the wounded sailors on the other ships died out, most of the dragons seemed to lose interest and flew off into the darkness. Valanandir held his breath, waiting for the others to leave. The next few moments slid by with agonizing slowness as the looming shadows circled overhead.

Just when he was beginning to hope the nightmare might be over, one of the dragons swooped downward. Valanandir let out his pent up breath in a gasp. The body of the creature was huge, dwarfing the others. Its black scales gleamed dully in the light of the fires. Valanandir nearly gagged on the musky stench that radiated from its body and filled the air each time the creature beat its enormous wings.

Not it—he. Valanandir knew this foul beast. All of Ralvaniar trembled at the mere thought of him. He was Nargaz, lord of the dark dragons. Valanandir heard a mew of terror, and realized it was his own. He clenched his quivering jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing himself somewhere else.

Valanandir heard the roar of flame and felt its heat. His eyes opened in surprise once he realized he had not been consumed. His pupils narrowed to mere pinpricks of shock within silver irises, darting left and right in confusion. The air was silent, save for the crackle of flame, the wingbeats of the dragons overhead, and his own ragged breathing.

A fresh scream ripped through the night air. Valanandir felt tears slide down his hot cheeks. He was torn between relief the victim wasn’t him, and a sympathizing despair. Choking back a sob, he continued to cling to the hempen rigging, its rough surface biting into his sweat-slick hand.

The screaming grew louder. Valanandir turned his head toward its source and saw one of his shipmates staggering toward him, engulfed in flame. His face was a tortured mask of agony, beyond Valanandir’s recognition. He weaved and stumbled, eventually falling to his hands and knees at Valanandir’s feet. Valanandir caught his bottom lip between his teeth, still hoping to remain unnoticed by the remaining dragons.

He was unsure whether the unfortunate soul writhing on the deck had seen him until the other elf looked up, his eyes filled with an unspoken plea. Valanandir knew it was too late to save him. Yet if he did nothing and somehow survived, this moment would haunt him for the rest of his life. He could not in good conscience watch a fellow elf burn alive without trying to save him or put him out of his misery.

Valanandir sighed and released the rigging to bend down to the figure at his feet. He braced himself before scooping him into his arms. The elf cried out once before sagging in relief. Valanandir’s wet skin and clothing would protect him for only a few moments from the flames that licked the dying elf’s body.

He would have to be quick.

Nargaz continued to swoop overhead, circling closer to watch his victims’ death throes. Valanandir spared a glance upward to meet glowing, red eyes. The eyes narrowed as they caught sight of Valanandir.

Valanandir was momentarily frozen in fear, his feet rooted to the deck of the ship. His legs compensated for the roiling waves out of long-ingrained habit, enabling him to keep his balance. Nargaz circled even lower, drawing breath to attack once more. His fiery gaze pinned Valanandir in place.

A raw pain in his chest and arms and the stench of burning flesh shook Valanandir from his trance. With a startled curse, he realized his burden was burning him. He forced himself to keep his gaze on his destination, ignoring the eager death that hovered above.

Valanandir ran across the slippery deck as fast as he dared. A jet of flame roared behind him, singeing the back of his legs. The ship rocked from the impact and he skidded, landing hard against the side. He lost his grip on his burden, and the elf went overboard, falling through the air in a blaze. Valanandir gripped the side and looked over, but the other elf had disappeared into the watery darkness. Valanandir had done what he could for him. Perhaps the elf would survive. Now he had to try to save his own skin.

He batted at the flames on his tunic sleeves and chest in an attempt to smother them and looked up. Nargaz was flying closer, preparing one last attack. Valanandir could either continue to try his chances on the ship, which would eventually be burned to a cinder, or throw himself at the mercy of the unruly sea. Like any Sea Elf, he was a strong swimmer, but he was also far from land. It wasn’t much of a choice. The fire on the ship was spreading quickly, and there was nowhere left to run.

Strangely, Valanandir found himself thinking of his best friend, Numril. He was the shipwright who had designed the vessel and been in charge of its creation. It had always been a gift of his, and the ship had been a beautiful craft. Numril would sorrow to learn it had been destroyed. Still, he would not want Valanandir to go down with the ship when there was another chance at survival.

Valanandir’s thoughts passed in the blink of an eye. Nargaz was directly overhead now. Valanandir could hear the beast fill his massive lungs for one last attack.

He hoisted himself onto the side and launched into a dive as the blast hit. The wind whistled past his ears as he plummeted. The air around him crackled with the heat of Nargaz’s attack. Valanandir’s legs were on fire. He bit back a cry of pain as his flesh began to burn. Once he was in the water, he would need all the breath in his lungs.

The churning waves rushed to meet him. He heard a roar of frustration from above. It was cut short by bubbling silence as he plunged into the dark waters.

After the initial shock of cold, there was blessed relief as the flames on Valanandir’s body and clothing were quenched. He opened his eyes, but it made little difference. Moving shadows and darkness were all he could see. He swam toward the surface, his burned legs kicking painfully. As he got closer, the light increased and the water became more restless. The flames from the burning ships glimmered from above in crazed fragments.

He would need to surface soon, but he remembered the last sound he had heard before hitting the water. Nargaz would be waiting. Valanandir swam a bit closer to try to make out the dragon’s form from the undulating shadows above. He was rocked back by a sudden impact. The waters immediately above him filled with a blinding light for several seconds before fading. Valanandir squeezed his eyes shut until it passed. An unnatural heat warmed the waters around him.

Nargaz had seen him.

The dragon was trying to prevent him from surfacing. Valanandir would have to choose between drowning and being burned alive. No doubt the sadistic creature found this amusing. Nargaz’s eyes were sharp and he was patient. Valanandir let a few precious air bubbles escape as he considered his options.

Dark shadows of varying shapes and sizes bobbed overhead on the surface of the water. There was the underbelly of his own ship and debris from the other ships. Many of the shadows were bodies. Valanandir tried not to panic as he searched for something, anything he could use.

Then he saw it—the capsized remains of a lifeboat. His instincts screamed at him to swim to it right away, but to do so would mean certain death. He was too close to the surface. If Nargaz saw him swim to the lifeboat, he would set it ablaze. Valanandir would have to fool the dragon into thinking he had drowned.

He turned away from the surface and swam into the deeps. The last of his air followed in a trail of bubbles behind him. He would only have one chance.

Once he was deep enough that the surface was hazy and distant, he aligned himself so he was directly under the dim shadow of the lifeboat. When he felt certain of his positioning, Valanandir began to swim back to the surface. His chest was constricting with the desperate need to breathe. He kept his lips sealed shut against the reflex to open his mouth and inhale. His limbs were heavy with fatigue, but a rising sense of panic drove him onward.

As he got closer to the roiling surface, it became more difficult to remain on course. Valanandir gritted his teeth and fought toward his goal. The surface was farther than it appeared. Dark spots crowded his vision. He was going to pass out soon.

Just when he thought he would never make it, he bumped his head on something hard. A blaze of sparkling white washed across the dark spots that blinded him. Valanandir struggled to remain conscious. He forced his fingers to grope above him to determine the nature of the obstacle. After a few dazed moments of probing, he nearly wept with relief. It was one of the wooden plank seats of the lifeboat. He used his hands to locate the space he knew would be between one seat and the next. Once he found it, he used the last of his strength to kick himself up into the void.

He sucked in one breath after another in ragged gasps. As his body replenished itself, his vision cleared. The underbelly of the lifeboat arced overhead. Valanandir made out the middle plank seat in the shadows surrounding him and wrapped his arms around it. Although his body could finally rest, his heart was still pounding in his ears. His heavy breathing echoed within the confined space. Valanandir forced it to slow and concentrated on the sounds coming from outside the boat.

Wingbeats. Valanandir could hear the dull pounding of wingbeats over the sound of the waves slapping the sides of the lifeboat and the occasional splitting crack followed by a splash from the ruins of the ships. Although the sound was muffled, Valanandir knew he would recognize it anywhere. He closed his eyes to focus.

The dragon making the sound was flying directly overhead. Nargaz was waiting for him. Valanandir held his breath, hoping his hiding place wouldn’t be found. Never mind he had no idea how he was going to get back to land. Surviving this moment was all that mattered.

Please don’t see. I am not here. I am only a weak elf who has drowned rather than face your fire. Please don’t see…

Several agonizing moments passed. He repeated his inner litany as he listened to Nargaz fly circuits over the area where he had last been seen. Valanandir waited for the attack to fall, shivering in cold and fear. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard the booming sound of several pairs of wings flying into the distance, immediately followed by silence. The lapping of the waves was all that remained. It was the sweetest sound Valanandir had ever heard. He opened his eyes and sagged against his wooden bench support.

Once his initial rush of euphoria faded, a new set of concerns set in. How long could he survive in the frigid waters? Even if he had not been injured and exhausted, there was no way he could swim all the way back to the island or the mainland. He had a lifeboat, but it was capsized. He didn’t have the leverage to turn the vessel over while treading water. Even if he did, how would he climb in? Not to mention the oars had been lost in the attack, so he would be at the complete mercy of the sea.

Even though he longed for the feel of open, fresh air, Valanandir remained clinging in place. He didn’t have the energy to swim out from under his makeshift shelter. Even if he did, he had no idea how far he would need to swim to find something else to use as a floating support. He would find no purchase on the curved underbelly of the lifeboat unless he somehow managed to straddle it, which would be an exhausting task in his current condition. There was nothing else to do but hang on to the seat of the lifeboat with tired, stiff arms and hope the current would eventually bring him to shore.

Valanandir swallowed. His throat was scratchy and dry. The smoke from the fire had dried him out. His parched mouth was filled with the acrid taste of it. Now he was surrounded by water, but none of it was fit to drink. Its salty tang mocked him as it bit into his burnt skin, stinging. He hadn’t noticed the pain before, but now it felt like his flesh was burning anew. He tried to push the pain aside and adjusted his grip on the lifeboat.

Time lost all meaning. With no water clock or hourglass, Valanandir had no idea what time it was or how long he had been in the water. He was shivering now. His teeth chattered and his hands were numb. The bump on his head was throbbing. His eyelids grew heavy and he struggled to keep them open. He caught himself closing them for what must have been the hundredth time and shook himself awake. If he lost consciousness now, he would be lost. He hoped he had not survived fire and dragons only to drown hours later.

His body felt impossibly heavy. It no longer seemed to float in the water, but pulled downward as if he were made of stone. His grip on the wooden plank was slipping. Valanandir tried to readjust, but his aching fingers refused to obey. A tide of darkness rose to engulf him. He realized his eyes were closing, but he couldn’t seem to open them.

He was slipping beneath the water. He managed to gasp one last breath before he was completely submerged. Once he was under, Valanandir began to sink. In his mind he was thrashing his arms and legs, fighting his way back to the surface, but his body was no longer his own. His limbs remained still and lifeless, dead weight that increased the speed of his descent.

It was over.

Valanandir choked back a sob as the realization hit him like a physical blow. The sea cared nothing for his grief. His tears were lost in the endless salty waters. He held his last breath as long as he could as a final act of defiance, but in the end, his body betrayed him. Valanandir’s lips parted and it escaped in a stream of bubbles. He fought the urge to inhale, but how long until he lost that battle as well?

Beloved faces flickered beneath his closed lids. Raswyn and Sinmalia—the aunt and uncle who had raised him—his best friend, Numril… He wished he could say good-bye.

His mouth was opening wide now. The water rushed into the void.

As consciousness faded, Valanandir saw his parents as he remembered them from his childhood. Although he wanted to live, a part of him was looking forward to joining them finally. Their arms reached out toward him. His lips moved without sound.

Mother…Father…

The arms reached out to embrace him, and Valanandir knew no more.

CHAPTER TWO

A WALK ON THE BEACH

Iadrawyn wrapped her arms around herself in a loose embrace, chafing herself for warmth. She pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders with chilled fingers. The dark sky overhead was laced by the branches of the trees. Iadrawyn was glad for their shelter, naked as most of them were. The looming emptiness of the sky always unsettled her. That something so vast should be completely devoid of light…

She shook herself and continued to pick her way along the forest trail, brushing her long, dark hair from her face as she walked. A light dusting of snow covered the ground beneath her feet. The natural sounds of wildlife soothed her frazzled nerves. Pausing, Iadrawyn closed her eyes and allowed her sharp breathing to slow to a deeper, more relaxed rhythm.

She had left the village so she could be alone, which was not unusual, but her anger was. She inhaled the pine-scented air and exhaled slowly, her breath a steady plume. She felt a semblance of her usual calm return, albeit reluctantly. She opened her deep green eyes and continued along the trail, her elven sight piercing the darkness with ease. Although her anger had faded, her thoughts still churned as she walked.

It was the visit from the drakhal that had incensed her. The foul creature should never have been permitted to cross the borders of her people’s wood. What madness caused the elders to welcome it as a delegate was beyond Iadrawyn’s understanding. Her own father had even voted to consider the drakhal’s message! It was as if he thought the thing could be trusted. Iadrawyn realized her hands were balled into fists. She forced her fingers open and shook them loose.

The world was changing. Iadrawyn knew it. She could sense it building with each passing day, this feeling of waiting for something to happen. What it was, she did not know, but she couldn’t believe it was a truce with the drakhalu.

The drakhalu were as ancient as the elves. When the world first came into being, the spirits who watched over it eventually became manifest in various forms who served either light or darkness. There were the dragons, masters of air and fire, who attacked from the skies with jets of flame. Some dragons were creatures of light, but many served the darkness. Her people were the elves, or Adar in their own tongue. They were former spirits of light, reborn in tall, lean frames with dusky skin, pointed ears, and delicate features.

The Sea Folk were also people of the light. They were elf-like creatures who had the lower body of a fish and lived in the deeps. The Fire Folk served only the darkness. Their bodies were mere shadows that could burst into flame at will.

Then there were the drakhalu. The polar opposite of the elves, they had the same frame and features, save that their skin was milky white, and their eyes were strange colors that no elf’s would ever be. They were denizens of the shadows, who took their sustenance from the blood of other creatures, puncturing the skin with their sharp fangs to drink.

Although they looked like living creatures, they were the embodiment of death, and could only be destroyed by certain means. They could not reproduce among themselves, but often shared some of their own blood with their elven victims to turn them and swell their numbers. Like all dark creatures, they fought against the elves for dominion over Ralvaniar. It was a struggle that had endured since the beginning of time. Thus far, the elves had managed to resist, but the cost was often high.

Now the drakhalu were trying to make peace. Their leader had sent an emissary. To hear the messenger talk, Iadrawyn’s people were in grave danger. Not from the dark races, no, but from their own kind—the other elven tribes, who were plotting against them.

It was the one fatal flaw of the elves. After becoming manifest as the elven people, they realized they had diverging interests, and split into different tribes before dispersing far and wide across the face of Ralvaniar. The Sea Elves, who loved the waters, settled on the isle of Arindaria. The Earth Elves were masters of metal and jewels. They made their home to the north in Meladaro, at the feet of the Hamad Sinta, the Mountains of Sky. The Wild Elves were a fey people who lived unfettered in Melabeli to the east. Finally, there was Iadrawyn’s own kind, the Wood Elves, whose hearts belonged to the trees. They made their home in the great wood on Ralvaniar’s western shore.

As the years went by, the tribes became more insular, and communications became strained, eventually ceasing altogether. Now the drakhal messenger claimed the other tribes had aligned with the Fire Folk and dark dragons, and were planning to turn on the Wood Elves. Many of Iadrawyn’s people were swayed by the creature’s words. The drakhalu could be very convincing when they wished. Their strange eyes were almost hypnotic. Now her tribe was considering going to war against their own race.

Iadrawyn was unconvinced. What reason did they have to trust the word of this foul embodiment of darkness and death? How could they know the drakhalu weren’t sending emissaries to all the elven tribes with the same story? They never acted without purpose, and what could be better than to wipe out the very people who stood between the dark races and complete dominance by turning them against one another? Iadrawyn wondered if they had contacted the Sea Folk as well.

No one wanted to listen to Iadrawyn’s concerns. She was only a youth among her people, despite being several decades old. Her eccentric reputation certainly didn’t help. Iadrawyn was a solitary soul who enjoyed her independence. She was often away from the village, wandering the wood. This was not considered appropriate for a woman, especially not the daughter of one of the noble council members. But Iadrawyn had ceased begging permission for her excursions long ago. She was more skilled at tracking than anyone else in her tribe, so it was no difficulty to slip away unnoticed. Her parents grudgingly learned to accept her need to roam unfettered, although they did not understand it.

The snapping of a branch somewhere behind her startled Iadrawyn to alertness. She stopped to listen. After a moment of silence, she heard a familiar footfall and stifled a groan.

“Iadrawyn!” An elf with long, silver hair jogged to catch up to her. “I heard the council met with a drakhal. I knew you would be upset, so I came looking for you. I’m glad I found you.” He beamed, his violet eyes lighting up his guileless face.

“Eruvalion,” Iadrawyn greeted him with long suffering patience.

She looked over the other elf’s shoulder and silently cursed. In her anger, she had left a trail even a child could follow. Hence, Eruvalion.

Eruvalion had become attached to her when they were both children. He followed her everywhere, watching her with his worshipful gaze. It was maddening.

Iadrawyn had lost her temper with him several times over it. This only made him try to follow her unseen. In a way, it was worse. It was one of the things that had forced Iadrawyn to take up tracking in the first place. She could usually avoid him in the forest, but she couldn’t hide from him in the village for long. No matter how she tried, she would find him hovering somewhere in the background.

She had tried to talk to his mother about it. Aranriel doted on her only child. Her husband had died in battle before Eruvalion was born. She had brushed aside Iadrawyn’s repeated requests to keep her son away, believing if Eruvalion thought Iadrawyn was his, it must be so. She had been smug, insisting Iadrawyn would come around about the idea eventually. Iadrawyn suspected she even encouraged her son’s possessive nature.

Iadrawyn had learned to ignore Eruvalion over time, but it wasn’t easy. One day as a child she had lashed out at him in frustration, calling him ‘Eruvalion’ in a taunting jest. The name meant ‘hidden watcher.’ To her chagrin, he claimed it as his name from that day forward. It was the only thing she had ever given him.

“Where are you going?” Eruvalion asked, ignoring Iadrawyn’s silence.

“Nowhere in particular. I just wanted to go for a walk so I could calm my thoughts. Alone,” Iadrawyn said, knowing full well her hint would be ignored.

“Well, no one should be off alone with drakhalu about. I will keep you company.” He smiled, looking pleased with himself.

Iadrawyn stifled a sigh of frustration. She had to think of a way to get rid of him. In her current state of mind, she couldn’t trust herself not to lash out. As much as Eruvalion annoyed her, she didn’t want to say or do anything she might regret later. If she did, she would never hear the end of it from his mother.

“You don’t like the drakhalu either?” she asked, her mind already working.

“I certainly don’t trust them. Who knows what they’re up to with this peace gesture?”

“You know, I stormed off in such a hurry, I never told anyone I was leaving or where I was going. Did you?” Iadrawyn kept her tone casual.

“No… I just set out to find you as soon as I realized you were missing. Everyone was so busy talking about the drakhal messenger. I was probably the only one who noticed you were gone.” His chest puffed up with pride.

He was probably right, but Iadrawyn needed to regain his focus.

“I’m not ready to go back yet, but I don’t want anyone to worry… I wish there were some way I could get word back to the village so they could find me if anything happens, especially with drakhalu lurking about. Who knows what they will think when they find me missing?”

“I can go back and tell them!” Eruvalion leaped at the opportunity she had left dangling.

“Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you…”

“It’s no trouble at all! I’ll run back and tell your parents, and return to find you.” He grinned. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“My thanks, Eruvalion,” Iadrawyn said, feeling a bit guilty about her manipulation. “That would be wonderful.”

“Ward yourself until I return.”

Eruvalion turned and ran back in the direction of the village. Iadrawyn listened as his footfalls faded into the distance.

Alone once more, Iadrawyn stepped into the trees, away from the trail. This time, she was calm and left no trace of her passing. Weaving between the trees, she veered southwest toward the coast. She often sat at the edge of the wood to listen to the crashing of the waves on the beach. It was one of her secret places. No one knew about it, not even Eruvalion. The rest of her tribe avoided the open waters, remaining deep within the heart of the forest.

The familiar pounding of the surf grew louder as Iadrawyn walked. Soon she could see the crests of the waves writhing in the distance. The trees came to an end. Iadrawyn remained beneath their familiar shelter, sitting with her back against the trunk of an ancient spruce. Beyond the forest’s edge, the snow-covered ground sloped downward in a gentle hill, ending at the beach. Iadrawyn had never set foot beyond the edges of the trees. Most of her people didn’t travel beyond the borders of their wood, unless it was a group of young warriors who went off seeking adventure and battle against the creatures of darkness.

Iadrawyn closed her eyes and tried to lose herself in the endless crashing of the waves. She had always felt isolated from her tribe—some of which was by choice—but she had never felt it so keenly as when the council had listened to the drakhal emissary. She felt the irresistible urge to do something, but what, she did not know. The council would never listen to her protests. And yet she could not accept the situation. The drakhalu were trying to manipulate them somehow. She felt it in her bones, but she had no proof. Perhaps if she could convince her father…

Some deep-seated instinct brushed Iadrawyn’s thoughts aside, urging her eyes open. She remained motionless, listening and peering into the darkness. No unusual sounds could be heard and there was nothing to be seen nearby. Her eyes scanned farther into the distance, seeking the cause of her alarm.

Something was moving in the water. It took her several moments to notice it past the motion of the waves. It was a group of figures, moving toward the beach. Iadrawyn found herself already on her feet with her knife drawn. She berated herself for storming out of the village without a bow.

There appeared to be three of them. Two figures dragged a third limp shadow between them, laying it on the sand. Strangely, they did not move very far inland, staying well within the reach of the waves. Iadrawyn watched, fascinated as they both lay on the sand, propped up on their elbows, with the limp figure between them.

Iadrawyn didn’t know how long she stood staring. When one of the creatures turned its head in her direction and beckoned, she cursed herself for a fool. Whatever they were, their eyes were keen enough to have picked her out from the trees.

The creature beckoned again.

For a moment, she was frozen with indecision. The rational part of her told her to flee back to the village. And yet every other part of her was urging her to go down to the beach.

Iadrawyn realized she had taken a step out from the edge of the trees without thinking. What was she doing? It could be a trick!

The figure beckoned once more.

Iadrawyn sighed. Whatever was down on the beach was in need of help. She could not in good conscience walk away.

She took another step toward the beach. The dark sky loomed overhead. The vast emptiness was disorienting. Iadrawyn had never felt so vulnerable and exposed. A frisson of fear brushed over her. Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her knife. How it was going to protect her from the vacant heavens, she did not know. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue toward the water, keeping her eyes on the terrain in front of her.

By the time she walked down the hill and reached the sand, she had broken out in a cold sweat. The creatures had not moved except to urge her forward from time to time. Now that she was closer, she pushed her fears aside and took a better look.

At first glance, they appeared to be elves. Both had dusky skin and long hair, tangled with seaweed. Their torsos were bare. One was male and the other female. Then the water covering their lower bodies rolled back. Iadrawyn stifled a gasp. Both creatures had shiny scales where their legs should be, forming a long tail ending in a pair of flukes. They were Sea Folk.

Now that she was close enough, she could also make out some of their coloring. The male’s hair and scales were green, and his eyes appeared to be a murky green as well. The female had blue hair braided with shells, and matching blue scales. Her silver gaze met Iadrawyn’s. Both creatures looked exhausted.

Only after she got a good look at the Sea Folk did Iadrawyn notice their burden. The third figure they had dragged onto the beach was not one of their own. An elf lay unconscious on his back. Judging by his silver hair, callused hands, and the fact that he had been rescued from the sea, he was most likely a Sea Elf from Arindaria. His clothing was torn and there was a lump on his temple. His skin was tinged blue with cold, but Iadrawyn also noticed what appeared to be burns on his body. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow.

“We rescued him from a shipwreck.” The female’s voice had a reedy quality as she spoke haltingly in the Elvish Tongue. The Sea Folk had their own language they used among themselves, and they seldom interacted with elves, with the exception of the Sea Elves. “He is wounded. We have done all we can. He needs help from his own kind.”

“But I am not a Sea Elf,” Iadrawyn protested, thinking of her people’s reaction if she brought this elf to her village. “You should take him to Arindaria.”

The two creatures exchanged glances and spoke briefly to each other in the piping tones of their own tongue. The male seemed agitated while the female spoke in soothing tones.

“Forgive me,” the female continued, “but all land-dwelling elves are the same to us, save that we have regular contact with the ones who live on the island. We would have taken him there, but there are winged demons about and this was closer.”

“Dragons…” Iadrawyn breathed in fear, her eyes scanning the skies for shadows.

“The great black one attacked his ship with many others before flying south. We could not risk following in their wake to return this one. Will you help him?”

There was only one ‘great black one’ Iadrawyn knew of among the dragons—Nargaz. All elves had cause to fear him. When Nargaz attacked, he left no survivors. How had this wounded elf escaped? Either he was very clever, or very lucky.

The Sea Folk awaited her response, their faces unreadable. Iadrawyn knew if she did decide to help, she couldn’t take the wounded elf back to her village. With the drakhal stirring up trouble, her people would not react well to the presence of a Sea Elf. But if she didn’t help him, who would? She could see he was in poor shape. No other elf from her tribe would help him if they found him, and as far as she knew, she was the only one who ever traveled this close to the edge of the wood. If she didn’t intervene, he would probably die.

“I will help him,” she sighed.

As she said the words, she felt something within her she hadn’t known was disjointed snap into place, startling her for a moment. Her intuition had always been strong—stronger than any other elf she had met—but she had never felt this powerful a reaction before. For whatever reason, she was meant to care for this elf.

“Thank you,” the female said. “How is it you are called so we may remember you?”

“I am Iadrawyn.”

“Iadrawyn.” She spoke the name slowly. “I am Nimrilwyn and this is Rallavalan. We must go now. Farewell.”

The Sea Folk launched themselves from the beach with the next wave, their flukes fluttering behind them before they disappeared beneath the surface. Iadrawyn watched the water for several moments afterward, unable to believe what had just happened.

CHAPTER THREE

DEAD WEIGHT

Iadrawyn gave herself a mental shake, returning her attention to the unconscious elf. She had to move him to shelter, but he was a full-grown male, too heavy for her to carry. She couldn’t ask anyone from her tribe for help. They would either imprison him as a possible spy, or leave him to die on the beach. Although Eruvalion would probably be delighted to help her if she asked, she didn’t trust him to keep a secret. He told his meddlesome mother everything. No, it was up to Iadrawyn to take care of the stranger.

It was a strange feeling. The youngest of three children, she had never been responsible for anyone else’s welfare. The other elves didn’t even trust her to watch their children due to her ‘eccentric’ ways. Although younglings seemed to like her when she spoke with them, their scowling parents would soon arrive—warned by some other well-meaning elf, no doubt—shooing them away from her with hollow excuses.

It hurt to be so different from her own kind that they didn’t trust her. They certainly wouldn’t trust her opinion in this particular instance. Iadrawyn was alone. Then again, she always was.

Swallowing her self-pity, she focused on the problem and realized there was someone she could rely on for help. She jogged back up the hill to the edge of the wood and gave a long, trilling whistle. Satisfied, she began gathering some deadfall from the forest floor. A Wood Elf never cut from a living tree unless there was great need. She carried her bundle back down to the beach, laying it in a pile near the unconscious elf.

Grabbing him under his arms, she dug her boots into the sand and dragged him out of the reach of the waves. Even moving his dead weight that short distance was difficult. Once he was clear of the water, Iadrawyn took off her pack and pulled out a blanket, wrapping it around him. She chafed his blue-tinged arms for good measure. Returning to her pack, she also retrieved some leather thongs and a coil of rope. She was glad she was in the habit of always carrying a full pack, in case the urge to run off into the woods struck her.

She laid out the lengths of wood on the beach in a rectangular framework, creating the skeleton of a sledge. She used the thongs to bind the wood together. Once this was done, she tested the strength of her creation. It would hold.

Returning to the elf, she hoisted him once more, dragging him onto the sledge. Once she was satisfied with his position, she used the rope to bind him in place.

Iadrawyn sat back on her heels to look toward the forest. Would her summons be answered? She thought so, but she wasn’t sure. When she glimpsed a shadow of movement among the trees, she walked back up the hill to investigate.

A doe’s head nosed out from between the branches to look up at her with liquid brown eyes. Iadrawyn sighed with relief, reaching out to stroke the creature’s neck. She was tan with white markings like any other of her kind, except for one large, white marking on her left flank. Although Iadrawyn was friendly with many creatures of the forest, this bond was special. Years ago, she had stumbled across the doe’s mother giving birth, but her fawn had turned in the womb. If Iadrawyn hadn’t intervened, both mother and child would have died. She had managed to save them both. The mother was a shy beast Iadrawyn only saw occasionally in her wanderings, but the fawn had become attached to her elven midwife, and still joined Iadrawyn sometimes on her walks even now that she was full grown. She had come in response to Iadrawyn’s whistle.

After greeting the doe, Iadrawyn took a step beyond the trees and beckoned for her to follow. The doe looked around with curiosity. Iadrawyn beckoned once more. The creature looked back at her. Brown eyes full of trust, she took a small step forward. Iadrawyn continued to encourage her until the doe was completely out from the shadow of the forest. The beast’s delicate legs were twitching with nervousness. She, too, had never been out from under the shadow of the trees.

Once the doe was completely out in the open, Iadrawyn put a hand on the creature’s shoulder and walked beside her toward the beach. Every so often the doe would balk in fear and Iadrawyn would have to soothe her before encouraging her to go on. When they finally arrived at the stranded elf’s limp form, the doe lowered her head to give him a cursory sniff before looking back up to Iadrawyn.

Iadrawyn stroked her flank in reassurance and reached down to grab the rope harness she had made to pull the sledge. The doe stood completely still as Iadrawyn fastened it to her, watching in curiosity, her fears forgotten. Once Iadrawyn was satisfied the rope would hold, she coaxed the doe forward toward the forest. The doe took a tentative step, looking back over her shoulder to watch the sledge drag behind her. With Iadrawyn’s encouragement, the doe continued to pull her burden all the way up the hill to the edge of the forest. At one point, Iadrawyn had to help pull due to the incline, but they made it.

Iadrawyn grabbed a fallen branch from a pine tree, shaking it to remove any dead needles. Once she was satisfied no more would fall off, she went back down to the beach where she had met the Sea Folk and worked her way backward up the hill, using the branch as a broom to sweep away their trail.

Now that they had cleared the first obstacle of getting the elf away from the beach, they had to get him to safety. Iadrawyn had several places hidden throughout the forest where she had created shelters for when she didn’t want to be found. Some were even up among the bare branches of the trees. Since she couldn’t possibly carry the limp body of the elf, none of those shelters would do. She needed something close by, far from the village and patrols of the guard…

Iadrawyn knew the perfect place. She went ahead of the doe, leading her onward. She had to stop every so often to sweep out their tracks. The trusting creature followed her without any further hesitation, quickly growing accustomed to her strange burden. Iadrawyn kept alert for any sounds or signs of being followed.

Although they were traveling in a different direction from where Eruvalion had found her, he was relentless in his efforts to follow her everywhere she went. If he stumbled across her now, she didn’t know what she would do. There was also the risk of drakhalu wandering about, since one was in the village. The thought of coming across one of them when she was vulnerable and alone terrified her. Even though the air was crisp, Iadrawyn’s nerves soon had her in a cold sweat.

When they finally reached their destination, Iadrawyn threw her arms around the doe’s neck in gratitude and relief. She would never have been able to get the wounded elf this far by herself. The doe nuzzled her face with her wet nose. Iadrawyn pulled away with reluctance to investigate the security of her hiding place.

It was an enormous, wayward pine, thick with needles. Its long branches reached all the way to the ground. Iadrawyn circled it on light feet, not even leaving an impression in the snow. Her knife drawn, she checked for any tracks leading to or from her shelter. There were none. Crouching, she pulled one of the bottom branches aside and crept under the tree’s skirt.

It was pitch black underneath. Iadrawyn stood completely still for several moments, waiting for her eyes to adjust and listening for signs of movement. Her shelter was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she reached into her pack for some flint. She needed to warm the wounded elf. The tree would hide the light of her fire. Iadrawyn hoped she was too far from the village for anyone to notice or investigate any resulting smoke.

She struck the flint with her knife over a pile of tinder she always left prepared. A spark leaped onto the wood and flared to life. The smoke was drawn up through the giant tree’s branches. It was a perfect natural tent. She went back out to retrieve her charge.

The doe was still waiting patiently. Iadrawyn untied the sledge while stroking her with words of thanks. Once the sledge was free, Iadrawyn gave the beast a light slap on the rump. The doe startled and ran a few steps before looking back. Iadrawyn smiled and gestured for her to leave. The doe sprang off into the darkness.

Bending over to grasp the frame of the sledge, Iadrawyn dragged it under the shelter of the pine. She untied the rope binding the elf and lay him down as gently as she could near the fire on a bed of dried pine needles. She tucked the blanket around him once more. He still gave no sign of life, save for his shallow breathing. She left him only to wipe out the last of their tracks around the base of the tree before returning.

Iadrawyn sat across the fire from her charge, lost in thought. She could treat his wounds and nurse him, but he was in bad shape. He might never wake up. If she had not been near the beach when the Sea Folk had dragged him to shore, he would be dead for certain. Iadrawyn knew she had done the right thing, but she craved the sense of certainty she had felt earlier.

Was she really meant to do this? This question was immediately followed by another she hadn’t even considered.

What would she do if he woke up?

CHAPTER FOUR

UNCHARTED WATERS

Darkness. Valanandir could not seem to escape it. He had thought it was the end for him when he had seen his parents, but only darkness had followed. He felt as if he were still drowning in a sea devoid of light, sound, or touch. The vast emptiness was oppressive. Occasionally, he heard voices far off in the distance before he seemed to drift away from them once more. Even when he did hear the voices, they weren’t ones he recognized, and he couldn’t seem to make himself understand what they were saying or even what direction they were coming from. Valanandir felt a stab of loneliness and fear.

Was this what death was really like?

He didn’t know how long this went on. It seemed like forever. Each time he heard a voice, he tried to swim toward it, but it always seemed to fade away before he could get his bearings. He was exhausted from the effort. What little strength he had left was failing. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep trying.

Then he heard a new voice. Although Valanandir still didn’t recognize it, it blazed through the darkness, reaching out to him. He latched onto it as if it were a lifeline, following the sound.

It was tiring work. Even though he grasped the thread of voice tightly, it was still far away. He had to stop to rest countless times before continuing. Sometimes, the voice would stop and he would be lost once more, desperately hoping it would return. The first time this happened, he was terrified. When the voice finally resumed its indecipherable murmur, he nearly wept in relief.

As he continued his journey, the darkness seemed to loosen its grip. Although he still couldn’t make out the words, the voice became stronger. It was a woman’s voice, melodic and soothing. His mother’s? No, Valanandir still didn’t recognize the speaker, although the voice seemed to resonate with him somehow.

There was one point where Valanandir felt as if he were on the brink of understanding the words. Then the voice faded once more, leaving him to curse in frustration.

The next time the voice returned, he scrambled after it as quickly as he could. The words washed over him. It seemed like they were a language he understood.

Mela... meliar… Something about trees in a wood? Valanandir realized they were the words of a song. Although it was being sung in Elvish, it wasn’t one he recognized. It wasn’t something any Sea Elf would sing. All his people’s songs were about water and wave. Where was he? Had he finally died?

Valanandir struggled to breach the surface of the surrounding darkness. He knew he was close. His eyes were difficult to open. They felt as though they were glued shut with some sort of gummy substance.

When he did manage to crack his eyes open, he immediately wished he hadn’t. With full consciousness came an awareness of pain, making him gasp. Every part of him hurt. He snapped his unseeing eyes shut and tried to retreat into the numb cocoon of darkness.

“You’re awake,” the voice said. There was a rustle of movement. A cool, damp cloth gently bathed his face, wiping his eyelids clean.

Valanandir kept his eyes closed, hoping the voice would leave so he could slip away once more and escape the pain. But the owner of the voice didn’t move from his side, waiting with quiet patience.

Valanandir groped for the darkness, but it fled from his grasp. It was gone. For better or worse, he was awake. He forced his eyes open once more.

At first, there was only light. His eyes watered, and he had to blink several times to clear them. As he regained focus, the light faded to a tolerable level, flickering behind the shadow that was kneeling before him.

He realized he was lying down. That made sense. He must have been unconscious. His entire backside stung fiercely. He tried to move his arms, but couldn’t. He looked down and saw that he was swaddled in blankets. Having taken a basic assessment of his condition, he looked up at the figure at his side.

Her long hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in a shining wave. It was so black it had blue highlights, like the wing of a raven. She wore a basic doeskin tunic and matching breeches, which hugged her lean frame. Valanandir’s gaze moved to her face. She had the pointed ears and dusky skin of an elf, and her angular features were delicate. And her eyes… They were a deep green, deeper than Valanandir had ever seen. They looked at him with patience and compassion. For a moment, he found himself lost in them before tearing his gaze away. In short, she was the most beautiful elf he had ever seen. She was also a Wood Elf. None of the other tribes had her combination of coloring.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to avoid her eyes.

Last he had heard, the Wood Elves were in league with the drakhalu and not to be trusted.

“I am Iadrawyn.” Her voice was smooth and calm.

“Where am I? Am I a prisoner here?” Valanandir’s eyes darted, taking in his surroundings for the first time. They seemed to be in some sort of tent fashioned to look like a tree. The floor was covered by a blanket of pine needles and a fire crackled from behind the elf woman. The pungent scent of pine resin and smoke filled his nostrils.

Something was missing. Water. For the first time in his life, Valanandir couldn’t smell the salty tang of the sea. He felt a surge of panic.

“You are in a hidden shelter of mine in the forest of the Wood Elves.” Her finely arched brows furrowed. “You are not a prisoner. I have been caring for you while you were unconscious. Now that you are awake, you may leave whenever you wish. You are still quite weak though.”

“How did I get here?” Valanandir fought his rising tide of anxiety.

He had never set foot on the land beyond his home isle of Arindaria. He had attacked dark creatures on the shore of the mainland from the deck of a ship, but it wasn’t the same.

“A couple of the Sea Folk carried you to shore. They asked me to care for you, so I brought you here. That was three days ago.”

“They must have saved me from the wreck…”

Valanandir thought of the arms he had felt around him as he had drowned. He shivered at the thought of how close he had been to dying.

“Wait, why would you listen to the Sea Folk? Why would they even speak to you? You are not a Sea Elf. Why would you help me? Are you going to give me to the drakhalu as fodder?” Valanandir’s panic was returning, fearing some sort of trap.

Iadrawyn sighed. “The Sea Folk had no choice. They had already carried you to the mainland and I was the only one around to speak to. My people do not often wander within viewing distance of the sea. I enjoy wandering our lands, and it was the first time even I have ever ventured out from under the trees of the wood. I helped you because I knew if I did not, you would die.”

Valanandir held her deep, green gaze for several moments. Iadrawyn met his eyes without flinching. She was telling the truth. It was certainly true if she had not cared for him, he would have died.

“I’m sorry.” He felt his cheeks flush. “You saved my life. I am grateful.”

“No apology is needed. If I were in your position, I would ask the same questions.” Her face darkened. “And whatever you have heard about my people and the drakhalu is perhaps not unfounded.”

Valanandir froze. “What do you mean?”

“The day I found you, a drakhal emissary arrived in my village, telling tales of the other elf tribes plotting against us. He spoke of a potential alliance. My people decided to hear him out and consider his words. My own father…” Iadrawyn took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “My father is on the council and voted in favor of allowing the drakhalu to speak. I was so angry, I stormed out of the village to be alone. I wandered far to avoid any followers. That is how I came to be at the edge of the forest to meet the Sea Folk.” Her hands were balled into fists on her knees.

“Your people are truly in league with the drakhalu?” Valanandir’s mouth went dry with fear.

“Not yet, but the emissary’s words were convincing. His voice is hypnotic. And his eyes…” Iadrawyn shivered. “It is difficult to look away from them. I believe many of my people have been entranced by him. I spoke against the drakhal, but my words had no effect. They usually don’t. No one wants to believe a strange elf woman who is always wandering off to be alone.” She gave a bitter smile.

“So you don’t plan to take me back to your village.” Valanandir made his voice even, hoping she was everything she appeared to be.

He wanted to trust her. Badly.

“No! Even if I were alone, I don’t think I would go back to the village until after the drakhal had left. I have no doubt been labeled a possible troublemaker for speaking out against him. I planned to keep you here until you were well enough to travel. I don’t know where you would go though. My people do not build ships, and I don’t think any of your people will be coming for a visit anytime soon.”

Valanandir found himself flushing with shame for doubting her. He was also ridiculously glad she had proved herself trustworthy. It was strange. He had never felt such strong emotions so soon after meeting someone.

“My thanks for rescuing me,” he said. “Not everyone would have done as you did in these troubled times for an elf of another tribe.”

“It isn’t true what the drakhal said, is it?” Iadrawyn leaned forward. “Are your people plotting against mine?”

Now Valanandir could see she also hungered to know whether he could be trusted. For all she knew, she could have rescued an enemy. He admired her for holding out as long as she had before asking.

“Not to my knowledge, no. We have heard rumors of the other tribes aligning with the drakhalu