Light Chasers -- A Novel of Lasniniar
Jacquelyn Smith
Copyright 2012 Jacquelyn Smith
Original cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
Updated cover design by Jacquelyn Smith
Stock images: “WINTER MOUNTAINS” by Unholyvault, “RED DRAGON IN FLIGHT” by Algol, “FIRE SMOKE” by Akv2006
A Note on This Book
Even though Light Chasers is considered Book 0, Soul Seeker was the first book to be written in the Lasniniar series. This novel takes place several thousand years before Soul Seeker, and follows an earlier generation of characters. That being said, feel free to start the series with either Light Chasers or Soul Seeker, but both are recommended reading before moving on to Storm Rider—the third novel in the series—which ties characters and events of Light Chasers and Soul Seeker together.
Want more Lasniniar adventure? Check out this limited-time giveaway offer.
— 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 rocked beneath him. 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 beginning 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 below 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.
Valanandir was unsure whether the unfortunate soul writhing on the deck had seen him until he 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 victim’s 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 Valanandir 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 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.
Valanandir batted at the flames on his tunic sleeves and chest in an attempt to smother them. He 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.
Valanandir 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 he had.
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. Valanandir 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.
Valanandir would need to surface soon, but he remembered the last sound he had heard before hitting the water. Nargaz would be waiting. He 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.
Valanandir 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 odd 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.