Harbingers (The World of Lasniniar, Book 8) – Jacquelyn Smith

Harbingers (The World of Lasniniar, Book 8)

Series: The World of Lasniniar

An unspeakable act. Iarion flees with Barlo in a useless effort to outrun the heinous crime his dwarf friend committed under desperate circumstances.

Meanwhile, the rest of Lasniniar marches to war. Would-be gods drive the humans against the elder races, granting the most devout of their worshipers magic of their own.

Into this chaotic darkness, a new power emerges.

…A power only Iarion can face.

The future of the World of Lasniniar hangs in the balance in this eighth novel in the epic fantasy series by Jacquelyn Smith.

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This title is also available as part of the Harbingers Lasniniar Collection.

Arinwyn looked down at the battlefield far below from her perch on Malarin’s back. The human army raised by the Unborn had massed just out of bowshot of the northern border of Melaquenya, their flickering campfires illuminating them in the darkness like a swarm of fireflies. Arinwyn had to agree with Lodariel—flying by dragonback was a much more relaxing experience than her own method of using her air magic to keep her suspended. While she enjoyed being in control of her movements, this was far less exhausting. Lodariel and Nasir also seemed to find it less unnerving to have something physical beneath them as they soared through the night sky.

“There’s another one!” Lodariel called out to Malarin. She pointed to a figure far below surrounded by a nimbus of power.

“I see him,” Malarin rumbled.

She tilted her large body to alter her course until they were flying directly toward the human mage-priest who was preparing an attack. Malarin opened her mouth. A jet of flame emerged from deep in her throat, outlining her sharp teeth. The fiery blow hit the mage-priest full in the chest. The air filled with the stench of scorched hair and flesh as the man screamed. Arinwyn forced her gaze away. She knew the attack was necessary. The mage-priests were the only ones who could do the dragons any damage. Not only that, but they were a conduit of the Unborn’s power. It had been her idea to target them instead of massacring all the misguided human warriors who had been led to this impasse by creatures they believed to be gods.

She pressed her cheek against Nasir’s shoulder, taking comfort in his solid presence. She thought he might have said something, but his words were lost in the whistle of the wind. Her usually stoic companion was sandwiched between her and Lodariel. Lodariel’s red-gold braids streamed through the air behind her, lashing against his face. Arinwyn had known him long enough to be able to tell he wasn’t anywhere near as comfortable with their current mode of transport as she was. Lodariel could shoot at their targets below with her bow if she wished, and Arinwyn had her magic, but Nasir’s curved sword was useless—not that any other weapon was needed with dragonfire at their disposal.

As Malarin’s victim disappeared into a pile of ash, she flapped her enormous, bat-like wings to climb back up into the sky with the six other dragons that had accompanied them from the fire island off the coast of Southwestern Lasniniar. The ascent brought back a flash of memory from a half-remembered dream.

I have flown like this before—with wings. Or do I only wish it were so?

[Copyright © Jacquelyn Smith, 2021]