Light Chasers by Jacquelyn Smith

Author:Jacquelyn Smith [Smith, Jacquelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9878799-0-5
Publisher: Jacquelyn Smith

Chapter Eighteen

Self-Betrayal

Numril was a jumble of conflicting emotions as he left the drakhal camp in the Pela Goro. For the first time in years, he walked under the light of the sun. At first, it seemed strange. He felt naked, exposed. He had become accustomed to the darkness. Gradually he relaxed, enjoying the feel of its gentle warmth on his permanently chilled skin.

He enjoyed the solitude the most. Even Vlaz’s presence was silent within the vaults of his mind. His master was back in the cave with the rest of the drakhalu, sleeping.

Numril suppressed the heady surge of freedom that bubbled inside him and reminded himself of his purpose. As much as he wished he had actually managed to escape on his own, this was not strictly the case. Despite his attempts to keep the knowledge of his daywalking abilities walled off in a secret corner of his mind, Vlaz had found out. Numril was still unsure whether his master had noticed how he had been touched by the light on that fateful day he had discovered his ability, or if he had ferreted it from Numril’s thoughts. Vlaz didn’t tell him, which only made it worse. Numril had become increasingly paranoid, never knowing whether any of his thoughts were truly private.

This created a schism within him as he was forced to censor his own thoughts. There was public Numril, who thought only of pleasing his master, and then there was private, defiant Numril, who was always contemplating escape. He had no way of knowing how much of which thoughts Vlaz was privy to. That in itself was maddening. To survive the harsh drakhal society and the constant invasion of his thoughts, subservient Numril had become the dominant personality, even when he was alone.

These last few days had challenged this precarious balance. His master had revealed to him that Numril was the secret weapon of the war that would be waged on the shadvaru—the elves. This was the mission for which Vlaz had turned him.

Although Numril had been thoroughly indoctrinated in the drakhal way over the last three years and wanted desperately to please his forbidding master, the thought of being the instrument of the downfall of the shadvaru made him uneasy.

Then there had been the ones that had found their camp. They became an unexpected feast for Vlaz and his minions. They were questioned first, of course, but the creatures revealed nothing before being bled dry. Vlaz had offered to share one with him, but the thought of it made Numril ill, so he refused, preferring his usual meal of small rodents. He was relieved when the master didn’t insist.

In that moment, the scouts ceased being shadvaru to him and became elves. The Black Tongue term seemed wrong somehow. Unable to ponder the meaning of this shift, Numril had focused his thoughts on the upcoming mission—a safe topic for contemplation. Vlaz had been distracted by the arrival of the scout from the other drakhal camp and the discovery of more elves in the Pela Goro.

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