Free The Legend of Asahiel: Book 02 - The Obsidian Key by Eldon Thompson Page A

He’s not concerned about that?”
    “I—” Torin stopped himself. He was about to say that he would be wearing Marisha’s Pendant as well. Darinor was indeed concerned about tracking his whereabouts during his journey, and more especially, those of the Sword. The mystic assumed that should one of the artifacts fall into a thief’s possession, both would. By exercising his control over the enchantment that connected his links of silver chain to the necklace from which they’d been taken, the Entient should be able to give chase and retrieve the talismans, should it become necessary.
    However, Torin had not yet told Allion about the existence of the Pendant, omitting any such references from his narrative. He assumed it was only a matter of time now before others found out about it, but he preferred not to be the one to violate Marisha’s long-held secret.
    “ He, I mean.” Torin coughed, covering his misstep. “He claims to have some means of tracking me, as he tracked Marisha. Some form of magic, I would guess.”
    Allion’s brow wrinkled in distrust. “And is it by magic that he expects you to find these so-called Vandari?”
    The Vandari. Those who lay at the heart of his quest. For Darinor hadreiterated that as gatekeeper of the Illysp seal, he was but a lookout. It was the Finlorians, and more specifically the Vandari, who had so long ago served as its architects. If any could rebuild what Torin had destroyed, it was they.
    And yet, by Darinor’s own admission, the Finlorians had abandoned these lands ages ago at the conclusion of the Illysp War. The only elves known to still exist upon these shores were the Mookla’ayans, those savage tribespeople secreted away in the jungle marshes of Vosges. When Torin, against his better judgment, had suggested he go first to them, Darinor had quashed the notion as he might an insect. Only the Finlorians could help them—and among these, only the Vandari.
    “I wish that were so,” Torin admitted. But it would not be that easy. Not even Darinor possessed a charm or cantrip that would reveal the whereabouts of the missing elven nation. He knew only what he had learned from his forebears, that most had fled westward across the Oloron Sea, there to tame the lands of Yawacor while leaving their own to be reclaimed by wilderness.
    “This is preposterous. How long does he expect you to search?”
    “As long as it takes, would be my guess.”
    Allion’s brown eyes fixed him with a glare that was every bit as immutable as the earth they resembled. “And if they no longer exist?”
    A shiver traced the edges of Torin’s spine. He did not want to consider that possibility. For if Darinor was to be believed, the Vandari alone might hold the key to salvation for the peoples now occupying their former lands. If not—if their light had been extinguished, or if Torin could not find them, or if they had not the knowledge or powers with which his people could arm themselves against this scourge—then, as the renegade Entient had promised in that ominous manner of his, both Torin and those he loved were about to face a gloom and misery such as his mortal mind could not fathom.
    But they did exist, Torin assured himself, and would not be told otherwise. The empire of Finloria was no more. But the Mookla’ayans had survived, despite centuries of effort on the part of man to drive them to extinction. And Yawacor, it was told, was yet home to many of the older races, those deemed undesirable by Pentanian standards and long since swept from her lands. While such reports were largely disregarded as superstitious hearsay, Torin refused to presume that the Finlorians no longer lived simply because he had never met one.
    “You wondered the same thing about the Sword, remember?” Torin said. “Whether I could find it. Whether it existed at all.”
    “Exactly my concern.” Allion, whose attention—like his—had been drifting inward, came back suddenly. “Don’t you see? It’s