Light Chasers Lasniniar Collection – Jacquelyn Smith

Light Chasers Lasniniar Collection

Series: The World of Lasniniar

Two elves from tribes on the brink of open hostility. Under normal circumstances, Iadrawyn and Valanandir would never cross paths.

But blood-drinking demons threaten to rule Ralvaniar under the cover of darkness while the elven tribes bicker.

…And both magic and fate have other plans.

Lose yourself in the elves’ sprawling past in this starter collection from the World of Lasniniar epic fantasy series by Jacquelyn Smith. This collection includes one novel and three shorts:

Light Chasers: A Novel of Lasniniar (The World of Lasniniar Book 1)
Legends of Lasniniar: Possession
Legends of Lasniniar: The Vow
Legends of Lasniniar: The Bearded Ones

→ Individual Title Details | Read an Excerpt

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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.

[Copyright © Jacquelyn Smith, 2021]