Godmaker: A Novel of Lasniniar E-Book

Jacquelyn Smith

• Herausgeber: WaywardScribe Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Iarion never meant to free the Unborn.

Now the humans of Lasniniar worship the host of lawless, magical entities as gods—fueling the Unborn spirits’ insatiable hunger for power while sowing the seeds of chaos.

Iarion finds himself at the center of the would-be gods’ attentions. Attentions that border on obsession.

...And not all of their interests prove friendly.

A new era begins as Iarion and his best friend Barlo struggle for survival on a journey that takes them beyond the known boundaries of the World of Lasniniar in this sixth novel in the epic fantasy series by the author of the Fatal Empire series, Jacquelyn Smith.

Leseprobe

GODMAKER

A NOVEL OF LASNINIAR

JACQUELYN SMITH

WAYWARDSCRIBE PRESS

For my new niece, Natalie. Welcome to this crazy world!

For Helen, Doug, Cecilia, Dianne, and their families. Thank you for being there when we needed a helping hand.

And as always, for Mark. Thank you for believing in me when I struggle to believe in myself.

Godmaker: A Novel of Lasniniar

Copyright © 2023 Jacquelyn Smith

Published by WaywardScribe Press

First published in December, 2014

Cover and layout copyright © Jacquelyn Smith

Cover design by Jacquelyn Smith/WaywardScribe Press

Cover art copyright © Refluo/Dreamstime

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Void Walker

About Jacquelyn Smith

CHAPTER ONE

A FAMILIAR FACE

Iarion walked the southern fringes of the Adar Daran, the tall stalks of grass barely registering his passage. A bracing, winter wind tugged at his white braids and brought color to his golden cheeks. A seemingly endless expanse of ancient trees towered to his left, an ocean of green leaves that shimmered with silver and gold, despite the season. He had been wandering the edges of the Light Elves’ domain for hours now, working his way from the hut he shared with Lodariel on the southern border all the way to the northern side of the forest. Now, the peaks of the Jagged Mountains loomed in the distance beneath a bank of clouds. A sprawling shadow to the northeast marked the southern border of Melaralva, the wood where he had been born in his previous incarnation. A lone tower with three jutting spires rose from the grassland to the northwest—Mar Arin.

These familiar sights only added to Iarion’s restlessness. As much as Melaquenya had become his home since his rebirth, he would always be a wanderer at heart. But even though the outside world still looked familiar, Lasniniar was changing. He had seen it in his travels beyond the confines of the wood. Nearly a century had passed since he had destroyed Saviadro’s spirit form that had taken root inside the Void, which lay between the land of the living and the realm of the dead. The Fallen One had set himself up as a god among the human Direlings that lived to the far east, and since his destruction, more spirits had come forth to wreak havoc or claim worship among the mortal races.

Iarion and the elves knew these strange beings were not true gods, but only the ancient souls of light or dark spirits that had chosen not to be born when the elves, dragons, Sea Folk, and the first dark races came into being. The destruction of Saviadro’s spirit palace inside the Void had created tears between the different dimensions that allowed the unborn spirits to make their presence known. But their connection to the land of the living was tenuous, and required either sacrifice or worship to strengthen it. The more they received, the more powerful and godlike they became, bestowing magic powers upon their chosen.

The elves had tried to warn the other races against falling under the thrall of the Unborn. Most of the dwarves had listened, but the humans were skeptical. The elves had always wielded the power of the Quenya, why couldn’t they have some magic as well? Iarion had been among the delegations sent to speak to the humans. The memory of it made him clench his fists in frustration. The elves only wanted to protect the other races, but the humans met their concern with suspicion and thinly veiled hostility.

Even though it galled him, Iarion could understand their reaction. The Shadow Elf tribes enjoyed long life, the Light Elves were immortal unless killed, and any elf who died fulfilling the destiny set out for them by the Quenya would eventually be reborn. A human’s shorter, linear lifespan was paltry by comparison. The Quenya was also the source of the elves’ magic, and could not be wielded by any other race. The way the humans saw it, the power of the Unborn leveled the playing field, which meant they didn’t need any bothersome elves meddling in their affairs, thank you very much.

The rising tension between the elves and the humans had driven the elves back to their insular ways, which meant fewer opportunities for Iarion to leave Melaquenya. He had no fear of being defeated by a human in battle, but he had no desire to harm one either, or draw the wrath of any Unborn guardian spirit. This meant his expeditions beyond Melaquenya were now mostly limited to Southern Lasniniar. The Dune People, who roamed the Shifting Sands, were too suspicious to accept the favor of the Unborn, and the People of the Plains were tied too closely to the elves who lived in nearby Melahalas to dismiss their warnings.

Iarion sighed. He missed the days when he could wander anywhere he pleased without worrying about the consequences, or at least without the fear of having to kill some innocent fool who had been duped by an unknown spirit.

A warning tingle on the back of his neck drew him from his circling thoughts. He whirled, an arrow nocked and his bow already drawn. An arrow sped toward him, skimming the top of his head so closely, the missile parted his hair before landing in the trunk of a tree behind him, quivering. He narrowed his golden-flecked, sapphire eyes, sweeping the grassland for signs of his attacker and finding none. His pointed ears strained to hear movement among the waving stalks, but the whistling wind was the only sound. The sensation of being watched intensified.

“I know you’re out there,” he called, hoping to draw out his attacker.

Nothing happened.

Iarion mentally traced the path of the arrow that had been aimed at him, using the uncanny feeling of the unseen watcher’s presence to guide his hands. He drew back his arm and loosed an arrow. It disappeared into the grass with a hiss. A female voice spluttered in protest.

“Hey, that would have hit me!”

Iarion was already moving as a tall, lithe form wearing elven hunting gear shimmered into existence. Pale skin glimmered in the weak, afternoon sun, reminding him of a drakhal. Silver hair fluttered above her shoulders in a blunt cut, accentuating her angular features. The short locks seemed to move in an unnatural breeze of their own, revealing glimpses of pointed ears. She abandoned her bow and arrow as Iarion ran toward her, drawing a knife from her belt with a wild grin.

Iarion threw himself at her, wielding a knife of his own. She blocked his attack with a silvery laugh, her weapon seeming to move faster than thought to snake out at his unprotected side. Iarion spun away from the blade at the last moment. He dropped to the ground and rolled toward her in a controlled tumble. She sidestepped him easily.

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked with a hand on her hip and a rueful shake of her head as Iarion rolled back to his feet.

Iarion laughed. “Not by a long shot. And you know it.”

He threw himself into another attack, making several feints so he could get closer to her. He eyed her leather boots carefully as he moved, his gaze flickering between them and her otherworldly violet eyes.

Her eyes narrowed as her lips tightened in a smile. “We’ll see.”

They danced in and out of each other’s guard in a blur of motion, alternately attacking and blocking. Iarion was a fierce warrior with thousands of years of fighting experience, but his opponent was at least his equal. His blood sang with the thrill of battle, even as his mind went back to the day they had first met.

It had been a day much like this one. He had been wandering the outskirts of Melaquenya shortly after the destruction of Saviadro when she had appeared. He had attacked her at first, mistaking her for a drakhal, despite the full light of the sun. They had fought a drawn out battle to a standstill, somehow becoming friends in the process. She had haunted his footsteps ever since, usually appearing when he left the confines of Melaquenya. Sometimes they fought, sometimes they only talked until she decided to leave. Theirs was an odd relationship—one that few others knew about or understood. Iarion had often suspected they had actually met much earlier than their first bout. The tingle of her gaze reminded him of the unseen eyes he had felt watching him inside the Void after Saviadro had fallen.

Iarion’s momentary distraction cost him. His blade was tangled with his opponent’s, but her left hand reached out to stroke his cheek—her way of letting him know she could have struck him with it if she wanted to.

“Say my name, Iarion.” Her voice had a note of longing to it.

Iarion laughed. “Why? It’s not even your true name anyway.”

Her gaze shifted to a gray-tinged mauve of regret. “There is no one in Lasniniar I would rather give my true name than you, but I cannot risk such a thing. Too many of my siblings have learned the mistake of sharing their true name the hard way. I will not be subjected to the command of a mortal.”

Iarion snorted. “As if anyone could presume to command a creature as willful and stubborn as you.”

She preened at his words. “As unlikely as it seems, I cannot take that chance. In the meantime, it pleases me to hear my use-name on your lips. You are the one who gave it to me, after all.”

Iarion felt his cheeks redden despite himself. She knew he didn’t feel that way about her, but it didn’t seem to stop her from pushing the boundaries of their strange friendship. He was only glad Lodariel wasn’t around to hear their exchange. His mate would be furious.

“How can you demand a boon when you haven’t even defeated me yet?” he asked in a bland tone in an effort to steer their conversation to more neutral ground.

Her eyes darkened for a moment before flickering back to their usual violet. Iarion suppressed a shiver, wondering if he’d pushed her too far. He had seen the dark side of her unpredictable temper and he had no wish to be its cause. He stood his ground, keeping his blade pressed against hers while waiting for the other shoe to drop. Their bodies were mere inches apart and were completely motionless except for the rise and fall of Iarion’s chest as he breathed.

In a sudden flash of movement, Iarion’s opponent pulled her knife away, sweeping it downward to rest against his groin. Iarion’s eyes widened and he stifled a curse.

“Felara!” he shouted in protest.

She smiled in satisfaction. “There. Was that so hard?”

Felara drew back her knife, inspecting the blade for nicks as if nothing had happened in one of her mercurial changes of mood. The name Iarion had chosen for her upon their first meeting meant ‘quicksilver’ in ancient Elvish. It suited her perfectly.

Iarion gripped his knife, frustrated to be outmaneuvered by such a crude tactic. He launched himself at her without warning, knowing full well his weapon couldn’t harm her. Felara looked up from her blade as he slammed into her, her eyes glimmering with amused surprise. They toppled into the grass in a tangle, both of them struggling to control the direction of their rolling bodies in an effort to gain supremacy. For a moment, Iarion found himself on top, but his victory was short lived. In a swift move that shouldn’t have been physically possible, Felara managed to twist out from under him. The next thing Iarion knew, he was lying on his back with her straddling his chest. She held her knife against his throat with a smug look.

“Do you yield?” she demanded.

Iarion struggled to move, but she had him firmly pinned. “You cheated!”

She smiled down at him. “Life’s full of little injustices, isn’t it? Now, do you yield or do I have to keep you down there all day? I rather like you in this position, so either one works for me.”

“Ahem.”

A familiar voice cleared his throat from nearby. Felara’s expression flattened at the interruption. Iarion snapped his mouth shut on his retort and swiveled his neck to look. A dwarf stood only a few feet away, his hand resting casually on the ax on his belt.

“Barlo.” Felara’s voice dripped with annoyance.

Barlo bobbed his head in greeting, his long, brown beard sliding down his chest. “Felara. Am I interrupting something?” He cocked a bushy eyebrow in inquiry.

Felara opened her mouth to respond, but Iarion cut her off. “Nothing important,” he said, blushing once more. He switched from Elvish to Common for his friend’s benefit. Barlo understood Elvish well enough, but his speaking skills left much to be desired.

Barlo’s steady, brown gaze held Iarion’s. “Good. Because I would hate to have to tell Lodariel anything was going on here.”

Felara sniffed. “Even if there were something going on, what would she be able to do about it?”

“Felara...” Iarion shook his head in warning.

Barlo planted his hands on his hips. “Look, lass, you might have some special powers, but you really don’t understand how people work, do you? Lodariel is Iarion’s mate. Not only have they been through a lot together, but they’ve been together for a long time. They were a couple long before you came along. She hasn’t asked Iarion to stop seeing you yet, but that could easily change. Now, that would put Iarion in a difficult position, but he would do it if she asked it of him.”

“Really.” Felara did not sound convinced.

“I personally guarantee it,” Barlo said. He gave Iarion a pointed look. “I would make sure of it.”

Felara laughed. “What would you do? Try to hit me over the head and drag me off in a sack?” In the blink of an eye, she was off Iarion and looming over Barlo. The dwarf didn’t even flinch.

“No, I would probably hit him over the head and drag him off in a sack, for his own good.” He jerked his chin in Iarion’s direction. “Then I would come looking for you. I wouldn’t be alone either.”

“Yes, I’m sure your precious Lodariel would come with you,” Felara said with a smirk.

“Her, her brother, Silvaranwyn, and other members of Iarion’s extended family, which just so happens to include Iadrawyn.” Felara paled a bit at Barlo’s words. “You’re no match for the Lady of the Light Elves.”

Felara blew out a sigh. “Barlo, you are more than a nuisance. Your bluster is admirable, but I would obliterate you in a heartbeat if Iarion didn’t hold you so dear. Why are you even interrupting us?”

Barlo’s gaze slid from Felara to Iarion. “Nothing important. I just have a bit of news for Iarion.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Barlo,” Felara said with an amused shake of her head. “What is it? You can trust me. I always have Iarion’s best interests at heart.”

“No, you have what you think Iarion’s best interests should be at heart,” Barlo said with a scowl.

Felara blinked. “How is that any different?”

“Ah, maybe I should see what Barlo has to tell me,” Iarion said, joining his friend in an attempt to head off another argument. Felara was a completely self-centered creature. Barlo would never be able to convince her to become otherwise.

“Very well,” Felara said with a hint of impatience. “Shall I stand over there?” She pointed to a spot to the northwest.

“Um, it’s actually something I have to show Iarion,” Barlo said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s inside the forest.” He gave Iarion a pointed look which left the elf baffled.

“I suppose this is farewell then,” Felara said. She didn’t sound as saddened by the prospect as she usually did. She darted in to embrace Iarion before he could stop her. “Until your next journey.” Her last words were a whisper in his ear that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Come on, Iarion.” Barlo’s voice pulled him back to the present. Iarion blinked.

Felara was gone.

* * *

Barlo breathed a sigh of relief once Felara was nowhere to be seen, but he didn’t let his guard down.

“Let’s go,” he said to Iarion before marching in the direction of the trees.

Iarion caught up with him in three strides. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s happened?”

Barlo shook his head. “Not here.”

He gave Iarion a pointed look, gesturing to the area beyond the forest, but his friend appeared oblivious of his meaning. Barlo rolled his eyes, muttering Dwarvish curses under his breath as he continued walking.

“All right then,” Iarion said with a bewildered expression. “Have it your way.”

Barlo waited until they were well inside the forest with the Adar Daran out of sight behind them and nothing but the leafy canopy overhead. He whirled to face Iarion.

“What in the First Father’s name were you doing back there?”

The elf took a startled step backward. He gave Barlo a wary look. “Felara and I were sparring.”

Barlo scowled. “That’s not what it looked like.” Iarion opened his mouth to protest, but Barlo cut him off. “It looked like you were about to get your snake greased by that conniving spirit-wench.”

Iarion threw up his hands in frustration. “It’s not like that between Felara and me! I thought you understood that.”

“Oh, I understand quite well that you’re not interested in her that way. She probably even says she understands it too, but we both know that isn’t true. She’s obsessed with you, Iarion.”

“I know she’s possessive,” Iarion said in a placating tone. “But she’s one of the Unborn. It’s just the way she is. I didn’t seek her out, if that makes you feel any better, and I would never let anything come of it.”

“Tread carefully with her, Iarion,” Barlo warned. “She has powers we don’t fully understand.”

Iarion looked down at him with a sigh. “Very well. I promise. Now what is it you needed to show me?”

“Lady Iadrawyn has summoned us to the Glade of the Quenya.”

Iarion’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you just tell me that when you first saw me?”

Barlo threw his head back in mock despair. “Do I really need to explain it to you?”

“Apparently, you do.” Iarion’s lips twitched in amusement. “Especially if it involves dwarven logic.”

“Dwarven logic?” Barlo gave an annoyed tug at his beard. “I think you mean common sense!”

“If you say so,” Iarion said, his tone mild.

Barlo uttered a stream of Dwarvish expletives. He made an effort to calm himself enough to explain. “Felara has powers and an unholy curiosity about you, yes?”

Iarion nodded, but still looked baffled.

“And she’s never appeared to you inside Melaquenya, has she?”

Iarion frowned. “No, she hasn’t.”

Barlo nodded in satisfaction. “See? I think the presence of the Quenya keeps her away. I didn’t want to give you Iadrawyn’s message where she might overhear it. I don’t think the Lady of the Light Elves would appreciate that spirit creature poking her nose in elven business.”

“But Felara had already left.”

Barlo silently asked the First Father to grant him some patience. How could Iarion possibly be so dense about this?

“She has powers, Iarion. Do you really think just because we couldn’t see her, she wasn’t hanging around to listen?”

“I think you’re being a bit paranoid.” The doubt in Iarion’s golden flecked eyes belied his words.

“Paige said she met one of these spirit creatures in Nal Nungalid a while back, remember?”

Iarion nodded. The young dwarf who had become Barlo’s adopted daughter had struck off to explore Lasniniar on her own shortly after she, Barlo, and Iarion had helped destroy Saviadro. She returned to Melaquenya from time to time to visit and share the tales of her travels.

“First off, the spirit could watch Paige and even hear some of her thoughts without her even knowing the spirit was there,” Barlo said. “Second, the spirit mentioned a sister who was obsessed with you. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Iarion bit his lip. “Probably not. I had forgotten that particular tale.”

“How convenient for you,” Barlo said. “Fortunately, you have me to remind you.”

“Lucky me,” Iarion muttered, just loud enough for Barlo to hear before raising his voice to a normal pitch. “I suppose we’d better get going then. Do you know what this summons from Iadrawyn is about?”

“The messenger didn’t say,” Barlo said as they continued walking deeper into the forest. “Lodariel was out foraging, but she’s to come as well. I sent Iadrawyn’s messenger after her.”

“I wonder what it could⁠—”

“Iarion!” A female voice called in greeting as Lodariel appeared on the forest path. She appeared slightly out of breath. Her long, red-gold braids snaked down her back in a tangle. She must have run from the south end of the forest to meet them. “Barlo, thank you for finding him.” She gave the dwarf a warm smile.

Iarion gave Barlo a furtive look over his mate’s shoulder as she embraced him in greeting. Barlo gave a reluctant nod, agreeing to his friend’s unspoken request to avoid mentioning Felara.

“What have you been up to?” Lodariel asked Iarion as she pulled away. “Have you managed to work out some of your restlessness?”

“For the most part,” Iarion said in a bland voice.

Lodariel took in Iarion’s disheveled hair and signs of grass and dirt on his clothes. “Have you been running as well?”

“No, I’ve been, ah, sparring.”

Lodariel’s eyebrows rose in inquiry. “Really? With whom?”

Iarion’s eyes met Barlo’s. “With Barlo, of course.”

Lodariel swung to face the dwarf, who did his best not to flinch under her scrutiny. “If you sparred with Barlo, why do you look like you’ve been rolling around on the ground when he doesn’t have a hair out of place?”

“Iarion’s not really on his game today, I’m afraid,” Barlo said before Iarion could answer. “I beat him quite soundly.” Iarion gave him a foul look from behind Lodariel’s back. Barlo suppressed a smirk.

Lodariel’s green gaze flitted from Barlo to Iarion. Her eyes narrowed.

“Felara.” She uttered the name like a curse. “You’ve been with her, haven’t you?” She shot Iarion an accusing look.

Iarion withered under her scrutiny, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I have. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upset me? Iarion, you just lied to my face. Did you think I wouldn’t find that upsetting?” Lodariel’s hands clenched into fists.

Iarion sent Barlo a pleading look. Barlo sighed, steeling himself to enter the fray.

“Now to be fair,” he said in a calm voice, “Iarion didn’t go off looking for her. She came to him.”

“You.” Lodariel whirled toward Barlo with a furious look. “You just helped Iarion lie to me! You know how dangerous that... creature is! How could you enable him this way?”

Barlo held up his hands in a warding gesture. “Hey, I’m on the same page as you. That Unborn spirit has an unhealthy interest in Iarion. I’ve already given him an earful on the subject. Her, too. Quite frankly, I’m a little tired of being dragged into the middle of this mess.” Iarion had the decency to look sheepish.

“Then I suppose you won’t mind if Iarion and I have a few words in private?” Lodariel asked, her voice deceptively mild. There was a hint of panic in Iarion’s eyes now.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Barlo said. “Please, be my guest.”

Barlo watched as Lodariel marched Iarion into the trees and out of earshot with a sense of mingling concern and relief. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the crossfire of a domestic dispute, never mind one that involved Lodariel. He felt bad for Iarion, but his friend had brought this upon himself. He only hoped Lodariel could finally persuade Iarion to stay away from Felara for good.

Whether Felara would stay away from Iarion was another question altogether.

CHAPTER TWO

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF

Iarion’s stomach was a knot of tension as he allowed himself to be ushered off by his mate. He loved and respected Lodariel, but her formidable temper, combined with a wide stubborn streak made her a dangerous elf to contend with. He found himself glad she didn’t have her spear with her. If things got heated and she decided to attack him, she would have to use her knife—not that it would make the situation much better.

Not for the first time, Iarion wished Lodariel and Felara could just find a way to be friends. The spirit maiden who haunted his footsteps always seemed to know how to raise Lodariel’s ire, and Lodariel didn’t even bother to hide her contempt for Felara. Iarion suppressed a sigh. He would never do anything to betray his mate’s trust. He understood some of Barlo’s concerns, but Iarion knew Felara better than anyone. Yes, she might want more from him than friendship, but she would never force him to do anything against his will. It simply wasn’t her way.

Even though he hadn’t done anything inappropriate with Felara, he knew his lie wouldn’t help convince Lodariel of his trustworthiness. He had only wished to spare her discomfort, but he knew that was no excuse. He steeled himself for Lodariel’s inevitable tirade as she stopped in a secluded clearing and turned to face him.

“Why, Iarion?” she asked in a soft voice. He was shocked to see her eyes shining with tears. “Why did you lie to me?”

Iarion felt as if the ground had fallen out from underneath his feet. This was not what he had expected...

“I—I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I know you don’t like it when I see Felara. I thought it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“Are you certain it’s not because you have something to hide? Because if it is, I want to know.” Her proud features twisted in anguish.

“No!” Iarion caught her hands, squeezing them in reassurance. “I swear there is nothing between us. There never could be. She is only a friend to me. You are my mate.”

“How can you be friends with someone like that? Someone who can’t be trusted.” Lodariel looked lost and bewildered.

Iarion shrugged. “I’m not sure I can explain it. I accept her for what she is. You know I have little in common with most of the elves who live in Melaquenya. Felara is a curiosity. She has traveled beyond the wood and to places beyond this realm of existence.”

“So it doesn’t bother you that she wants something more between you?” Lodariel lowered her head, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Iarion chuckled. “Wanting and getting are two different things. It’s a game she plays. I’ve been very clear with her from the start about the limit of my feelings for her. Don’t tell me you’ve never had any friends who flirted with you. You’re clever, gorgeous, and a former Wild Elf to boot.”

Lodariel flushed, biting her lip. The Wild Elves were the most licentious of the elven tribes, their mating groups often too varying and complex for other elves to follow. Most of them were also terrible flirts.

“That’s different,” Lodariel said with a toss of her head. “I’m mated to you now.”

Iarion cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Yes, but I’ve heard the way some of the other reborn Wild Elves talk to you when they think I’m not listening.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I trust you with them. Can’t you trust me?”

Lodariel sighed. “With anyone else, yes. I’ve done my best to keep my jealousy in check whenever I’ve seen anyone swooning over you because I know you are mine. But Felara is different.”

Iarion saw a glimmer of fear in his mate’s eyes and a piece of the puzzle fell into place. He had assumed Lodariel had never asked him to stop seeing Felara because she was trying to accept their strange friendship.

She’s afraid if she forces the issue, I’ll choose Felara over her.

Iarion held her gaze. “Lodariel, we have journeyed and fought side by side across the length and breadth of Lasniniar. You have guarded my back, and even sacrificed yourself for me. You are far more than a curiosity. You are my love, my mate, and one of the few people in this world I would trust without hesitation. I would never choose someone like Felara over you.”

Lodariel searched his face with her eyes and swallowed. “Thank you. That is what I needed to hear. Although it would also make me feel better if you saw her less often. It’s her I don’t trust.”

Iarion gave her a wry smile. “I have been restless lately, but I don’t see why I can’t spend more time in Melaquenya. Provided you can suggest a way to keep me suitably occupied, of course.” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, startling a laugh from her.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” Lodariel said with a wicked smile of her own. “In the meantime, we’d better see what Iadrawyn wants.”

They returned to where they had left Barlo, walking hand in hand. The dwarf rose from where he had been resting on a large boulder with a relieved expression. He gave Iarion an appraising look.

“Well that seems to have been resolved with less bloodshed than I expected.”

Iarion snorted. “We’re not dwarven barbarians. Elves have always been known for their way with words.”

Barlo scowled. “I’ve got a few words for you...”

“Not now, Barlo,” Iarion said with a mocking wave of dismissal. “Iadrawyn is waiting.”

Iarion and Lodariel took the lead as Barlo trailed behind them, grumbling choice words all the way.

They passed the Meeting Glade that housed the thrones of the Lord and Lady of the Light Elves. Usually, the area would be filled with elves awaiting an audience, but it was empty. Lodariel lifted her head, her gaze suddenly alert. A pair of elves with red-golden hair approached from a path to the south. Lodariel waved.

“Daroandir! I thought I sensed you nearby. No one’s seen you or your mate for ages!” She ran forward to give her twin brother a hug before turning her attentions to his mate. “Silvaranwyn, you’re looking well.”

“Thank you,” Silvaranwyn said in her soft voice.

Iadrawyn and Valanandir’s youngest child was looking more radiant than usual, her golden skin and flowing hair seeming to almost emit a glow of their own. Iarion wondered if it was her proximity to the Glade of the Quenya. Like her mother and elder sister, she shared a strong bond with the elves’ source of magic. He felt a strange tingle as he embraced her before passing her to Barlo.

Iarion caught Lodariel giving her brother a strange look as the greetings were concluded.

“Something’s different,” she said, an accusing note in her voice.

“Nice to see you too,” Daroandir said in a dry voice. “I’m well, thanks for asking.”

“Don’t be coy,” Lodariel said, her gaze narrowing in suspicion. “You’re hiding something.” She began walking around him in a slow circle, like a hound trying to capture a scent. Daroandir watched her with a shuttered expression that clearly said he wanted to be left alone. Iarion rolled his eyes heavenward. Hadn’t there already been enough drama for one day?

“Is it anything about why we’ve been summoned?” Barlo asked. “I’m assuming Iadrawyn sent a message to you as well.”

Iarion shot his friend a grateful look for changing the subject so smoothly.

“See?” Barlo said in a voice pitched so only Iarion would hear. “Dwarves can use words too.”

“We have no idea why Iadrawyn sent for us,” Daroandir said, also seeming relieved at the shift in topic.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Barlo said, ignoring Lodariel’s scowl. He gestured toward the entrance of the glade, which was guarded by a pair of elf sentries. “Shall we?”

Daroandir swept Silvaranwyn beneath his arm in a protective gesture, leading the way. The sentries stepped aside with a nod. The lord and lady must have left them with instructions about who could enter. Lodariel stalked after them, her eyes boring holes in her brother’s back. Iarion and Barlo brought up the rear.

Iadrawyn and Valanandir were already waiting for them. They stood together beside the ancient, enormous tree in the center of the glade. Iarion felt the familiar tingle of the Quenya’s power on his skin as he approached. It emitted a shifting rainbow of light from inside the hollow of the tree that housed it.

Iadrawyn’s pale, green eyes met her daughter’s golden ones, giving Iarion the impression of something unspoken passing between them. He blinked, and the moment was gone, leaving him to wonder whether he had imagined it. A starsilver circlet rested on Iadrawyn’s brow, crowning her long, golden hair, her only symbol of rank. A matching one rested atop Valanandir’s white head. The Lord of the Light Elves gave a nod of greeting to each of them in turn as they entered the glade. His features were expressionless, but Iarion read a flicker of worry in his golden gaze.

“Thank you for coming,” Valanandir said. He took a deep breath, letting it out with an uncharacteristic frown as if uncertain where to begin.

“Something has happened, and we are unsure how to proceed,” Iadrawyn said, coming to his rescue. Dead silence followed as the meaning of her words sunk in.

“How can that be?” Lodariel blurted. “You are closer to the Quenya than anyone.”

Iadrawyn gave a helpless shrug. “That might be true, but the Quenya has been able to offer me little guidance in this matter.”

“We summoned you because you are the ones who have helped fulfill the will of the Quenya beyond the realm of this wood time and again,” Valanandir explained. He and his mate exchanged a look. “Iadrawyn was also hoping Iarion might have had a vision from the Forbidden Pool that could give us some insight.”

Iarion rocked back on his heels in surprise, shaking his head. “I have seen nothing. In fact, I haven’t had any visions since Saviadro was destroyed...” He trailed off, lost in thought at the implications of his statement.

“It is possible the power of the Forbidden Pool to grant dark visions of the potential future has been broken with the destruction of its maker,” Iadrawyn mused.

Barlo gave an impatient shake of his head. “All this is very interesting, but can we please get to what happened? We can sort out the rest later.”

“Yes, Barlo,” Iadrawyn said with a twitch of her lips. “Several months ago, a delegation arrived from the Sea Elves, led by their lord and lady’s youngest daughter.”

“Rasniwyn,” Iarion said. He knew the Sea Elf princess and her two sisters well.

Iadrawyn nodded. “Her parents had been stricken with a strange, unknown illness. Feoras has been forced to stay with them at all times, using his magic to sustain them.”

Iarion’s eyes widened. The Learnéd One of Water had regained most of his power since being reborn among the Sea Elves, and he would be surrounded by his element on the isle of Rasdaria. If the lord and lady were so ill that he couldn’t leave them, the situation must be dire.

“Rasniwyn asked for my help,” Iadrawyn said. “I consulted the Quenya, and it showed me an unfamiliar plant with purple, star-shaped blooms. When I tried to learn where to find it, I was only given a vague image of an island somewhere to the southwest. It was as if some outside force was blocking me from seeing it more clearly.” She shook her head. “It was unlike anything I have sensed before.”

“Rasniwyn and her delegation sent word back to Rasdaria and set out to find this mysterious island,” Valanandir said, taking up the tale. “We heard nothing afterward, and assumed they had returned to Rasdaria. Today we received a message from Feoras. Rasniwyn and the other Sea Elves she sailed with have not returned.”

“What is it with Sea Elves going missing?” Barlo grumbled. “Doesn’t this seem a bit familiar? Before we destroyed Saviadro, we went traipsing off after Feoras and his pod of Sea Elves.”

“‘Pod?’” Iadrawyn asked with a frown.

Iarion shot his friend a flat look. “It’s an old joke.”

“So what do we do?” Lodariel asked. “Do we try to find Rasniwyn and her crew? They could be anywhere, and we don’t even know for certain where this island is.”

Iarion’s heart leaped at the mention of an adventure that would take him not just beyond the familiar bounds of Melaquenya, but to new, uncharted territory. He felt an answering tug from the Quenya.

Barlo gave him a sidelong look. “Well, it looks like Iarion’s going, so I’m in.”

Iarion’s expression turned baffled. “How did you⁠—”

“I wasn’t reborn yesterday,” Barlo said with a snort. “I know you all too well. Besides, we have that bond thing, remember?”

Iarion flushed, feeling like an idiot. He and Barlo had always been close, which meant he often forgot the invisible bond that had formed between them since Barlo’s rebirth to anchor them together, until a moment like this one reminded him. The bond was similar to the one Lodariel and Daroandir shared as twins, but not as developed.

“If Iarion’s going, I’m going too,” Lodariel said. She raised her chin to give her brother a questioning look that bore a hint of challenge.

Daroandir’s cheeks reddened. “Normally, I would consider going,” he said, shifting uncomfortably under Lodariel’s scrutiny. “But I’m afraid...” He shook his head and started again. “This isn’t⁠— ”

Silvaranwyn placed a hand on her mate’s arm. “Daroandir and I are with child.” She placed her other hand over her abdomen, revealing a slight swell beneath her simple gown.

Lodariel’s jaw dropped, but neither Iadrawyn nor Valanandir appeared surprised. They stepped forward to embrace their daughter with proud smiles.

“This is wonderful news!” Barlo’s bearded face was split by a grin as he went over to shake Daroandir’s hand. “Congratulations!”

“You and Silvaranwyn have been avoiding us for weeks,” Lodariel said, sounding more stunned than accusatory. She shook her head at her brother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry,” Daroandir said, looking chagrined. “I wanted to, but this was Silvaranwyn’s and my secret. We wanted to tell all of you together after we’d had a chance to get used to the idea ourselves. Forgive me?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course, I forgive you.” Lodariel wrapped Daroandir in a hug, pulling away with an excited smile. “You’re going to be a father! I’m going to be an aunt!” She turned to Silvaranwyn. “Have you had any problems with morning sickness? I have some herbs that might help. I can also whip up a poultice if your ankles get swollen...” Lodariel continued her stream of chatter while Silvaranwyn listened with a patient smile. Lodariel had died before her brother had sired children during their previous incarnation, and she seemed determined to make up for it.

“You knew,” Iarion said to Valanandir in a low voice after he had congratulated the couple. “I saw the moment when the Quenya let Iadrawyn know. How did you find out?”

“I suspected it the moment Daroandir and Silvaranwyn entered the glade when I saw the way Daroandir was hovering over her. He is not a possessive elf. I know all too well how it feels to want to shelter your mate when she is pregnant.”

Valanandir’s golden eyes traveled from his daughter to rest on Iadrawyn, who gave him an answering smile. His gaze returned to Silvaranwyn, who was still being bombarded by Lodariel’s helpful suggestions. She gave her father a mute look of appeal. Valanandir cleared his throat and Lodariel’s words trailed off.

“So Daroandir and Silvaranwyn will remain in Melaquenya,” he said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

Silvaranwyn nodded. “I am only a few weeks along, but this journey could be dangerous and go on for months. The Quenya has also given me no indication I should leave.”

“And I will not risk not being here when the baby is born,” Daroandir said, giving Lodariel an apologetic look.

“I daresay you won’t!” Lodariel looked positively fierce. “Your place is here, at your mate’s side, taking care of her every need.”

Daroandir’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Then you understand.”

“Of course, I understand!” Lodariel said. “If you even tried to come with us, I would smack you.”

“So how do we find this island?” Barlo asked, glossing over Lodariel’s threat.

“Will the Sea Elves send a ship?” Iarion asked.

Valanandir shook his head. “It is too late in the season for sea travel in this part of the world, even for the Sea Elves. The storms are too fierce. Even the message from Rasdaria had to be sent by gull.”

“Well, we’ll need a ship at some point,” Barlo mused, chomping on his beard. “You can hardly reach an island without one, unless we can track down Lysandir and use one of his drakes to fly instead.”

“Lysandir is back in the far north,” Silvaranwyn said. “The drakes do not like to fly in the cold and have settled in the mountains for the winter.”

“That blasted Learnéd One is never around when you need him,” Barlo grumbled.

“The River Folk are fair sailors,” Iarion said, his brow furrowed. “And they are the closest to where this strange island is supposed to be. Maybe they have heard of it.”

“It’s a long walk to the Riverlands, Iarion,” Barlo said, sounding dubious.

Iarion gave him a pointed look. “We’ve done it before. Do you have a better idea?”

Barlo snorted. “Of course not. I’d much rather poke holes in your plan. Then I get to say ‘I told you so’ when I’m proved right. Would the River Folk even help us? I’m guessing the Unborn have made their way to Southwestern Lasniniar as well, and we know how unfriendly the humans have become, what with all their new gods and magic.”

“We’ll have to risk it,” Iarion said with a shrug. “I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“Is Rasniwyn still alive?” Lodariel asked Iadrawyn.

“I cannot say for certain,” Iadrawyn said with a shake of her head. “Whatever force holds sway to the southwest prevents me from finding her. But I believe so.”

“We have to try, Lodariel,” Iarion said. Not only was Rasniwyn a friend, but the Lord and Lady of the Sea Elves would likely die without the herb Iadrawyn had seen in her vision. He wasn’t about to sit around Melaquenya waiting when there was something he could be doing about it.

Lodariel gave him a solemn nod of understanding. “I know. But this will be a long journey, and we should set out right away. I just wish we had more time with Daroandir and Silvaranwyn.” She gave the two other elves a wistful look. “We’re going to miss everything.”

Journey.

The word stuck out in Iarion’s mind, conjuring an image of Felara. What had she said to him before disappearing?

Until your next journey.

The words echoed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. He had thought them a strange choice at the time, but had dismissed the incident as one of Felara’s many quirks. Now he suspected otherwise.

Had she known what was about to happen? He had to find out.

He blinked. “Why don’t you take your brother and Silvaranwyn back to our hut,” he said to Lodariel. “They can have dinner with us tonight to celebrate the baby before we leave.”

Lodariel brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea!” She put one arm around Silvaranwyn and the other around her twin. “Come on, let’s go.” She swept the bemused parents-to-be from the glade with a passing nod to Iadrawyn and Valanandir.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Iarion called after her. “I need to take care of something first.”

Lodariel waved in acknowledgment, already chattering once more about possible baby names. Barlo remained in place, watching Iarion with narrowed eyes.

A gentle hand landed on Iarion’s shoulder, startling him. “Be careful,” Iadrawyn said to him in Elvish in a low voice. “She is more dangerous than you give her credit.” She released him with a meaningful glance. Iarion didn’t need to ask who she meant.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, somewhat annoyed to have yet another person cautioning him where Felara was concerned. Iadrawyn gave him a sad, knowing look.

He switched to Common. “I have to go,” he said in a rough voice, no longer able to meet her gaze. “Barlo, I’ll see you at home.”

He walked from the glade as quickly as he dared, breaking into a run as soon as he had left it behind. He had always known Felara hid things from him. It was her way. But this time was different. If she knew anything about their upcoming journey... Iarion shook his head.

This time, Felara would give him some answers.

CHAPTER THREE

CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE

Barlo watched Iarion run off with a scowl.

That elf is up to something... And I bet I can guess what.

Lodariel was too distracted by the baby news to notice the shift in Iarion’s behavior. She had already left with Silvaranwyn and Daroandir. The Lady of the Light Elves had certainly noticed. She had said something too low for Barlo to hear, but he had seen her concerned expression. Barlo shook his head with a curse and started to run after Iarion.

The elf was already far ahead of him, and there was no way for Barlo to catch up with his shorter strides, but he suspected he knew where Iarion was headed. He chose a path leading north, back to the edge of the forest where he had found Iarion earlier. His legs pumped and his cheeks puffed with each breath, sounding like a set of bellows. Anxious thoughts circled in his mind, centered on Iarion.

I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.

But Barlo knew his friend too well. Yes, Iarion had lived for thousands of years, but he could be just as reckless as he was clever. He often seemed to give little thought to the consequences of his actions, or how they might affect the people who cared about him. Barlo was his self-appointed voice of reason, doing whatever he could to pull Iarion back from the brink of chaos.

And now I’ve let him slip off without me. I should have known better! I hope I can reach him in time...

He had still seen no sign of Iarion in the blur of passing trees, but he didn’t slow. The edge of the forest came into view ahead of him. He stumbled out of the trees into the open grassland of the Adar Daran. Iarion was already there, standing with his held tilted back while shouting the one word Barlo didn’t want to hear.

“Felara!”

Iarion started at the sudden hiss of moving grass as Barlo arrived on the scene. He whirled to face his friend.

“What are you doing?” the elf asked with a frown.

Barlo spluttered, still out of breath from his run. “I should ask you the same thing! What are you doing, calling her? Have you gone completely daft?”

Iarion’s frown turned into a scowl. “She knows something, Barlo.”

Barlo rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure she knows a lot of things. And she’ll know even more once you go blabbing to her.” He gave the elf a meaningful look. Just because Felara hadn’t deigned to show herself, didn’t mean she wasn’t listening.

Iarion gave in impatient shake of his head. “No, I mean she already knew we would be going on a journey. She mentioned it before we went back to meet Iadrawyn and the others.” He went back to shouting. “Felara!”

Barlo stalked though the tall grass and snatched Iarion’s arm. “If she already knew, that means she kept it from you deliberately. Think about that, Iarion. Why would she do such a thing?”

Iarion shook his arm free. “I don’t know. Who knows why she does anything? She doesn’t seem to think the same way we do, which isn’t really surprising. Felara! I know you’re out there...”

“She’s manipulating you, you dolt!” Barlo gave his friend a solid shove, startling Iarion back a few paces. “If she knew about the journey—and I always assume that creature knows far more than she lets on—she probably knew about the reason behind it. If that’s true, she had no other reason to hide that information from you other than to toy with you, stringing you along for her own, secret purposes.”

Iarion gave his friend a confused look. “Barlo, if she really does know anything about our journey, doesn’t it make sense to try to find out as much as possible? Felara!” Iarion reached for the knife at his belt. “Maybe if I spill some blood, it will get her attention...” He stretched his other arm out in front of him, lowering the blade toward his own wrist.

“Iarion, no!” Barlo slammed into the elf in a headlong tackle, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

Iarion uttered a stream of curses in Elvish. “What did you do that for? Ugh, I feel as though I’ve been sat on by a horse.” He flailed his arms and legs under Barlo’s heavier weight. “Get off of me!”

“I was trying to stop you from doing something incredibly stupid,” Barlo said, remaining firmly in place and making sure Iarion’s blade had fallen out of reach. “You know giving one of the Unborn your blood gives them a link to you. What were you thinking? And I weigh considerably less than a horse, thank you very much.”

“Not by much,” Iarion said, his voice breathless. “I was only trying to get her attention.”

An annoyed sigh came from above them, making them both look up. Felara stood over them, her violet eyes glittering with annoyance.

“Tell me, Barlo,” she said as she looked down on them. “Why do you always insist on interrupting when things are about to get interesting?”

“See?” Iarion said to Barlo. “It worked.”

Barlo resisted the urge to smack him, choosing to clamber to his feet instead. His hand strayed to the ax on his belt as he gave Felara a wary look.

“I think you and I must have a different definition of what qualifies as ‘interesting, ’” he said. “The only actions I’ve interrupted so far are what most sane people would consider foolish and dangerous.”

Felara gave a careless shrug, sending her short hair swinging. “I am not most people. But I think you already knew that.” She gave Barlo a sly grin that sent a shiver down his spine. She turned her attention toward Iarion, who had also returned to a standing position. “Why were you so desperately trying to gain my attention?”

Barlo shot Iarion a look of warning, but the elf ignored him. “Why were you ignoring me?” Iarion challenged.

Felara gave him a pitying smile. “You are not the only creature in this world who has captured my interest, Iarion.”

Iarion’s eyes narrowed. “You were already watching. I could sense your presence.”

Barlo stifled a curse. His paranoia had been well-founded. Perhaps Iarion wasn’t a complete fool after all...

Felara had the decency to look sheepish for the briefest of moments. “You are the only person I have ever met who can sense me when I am unseen.” She sighed. “I suppose I wanted to see how far you would go to try to get my attention. It’s good for a girl’s ego.” She batted her lashes at him.

Iarion gave her a flat look. “And how far would you have let me go? Would you have stopped me before or after I had drawn blood on your account?”

She tapped a finger to her lip, looking thoughtful. “I really can’t say... I suppose we’ll never know now.” She favored Barlo with a glare. “Why did you want my attention so badly, anyway? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You know why,” Iarion said.

“Whatever are you talking about, Iarion?” Felara’s eyes widened in a mockery of innocence.

Now it was Iarion’s turn to sigh. “You mentioned a journey before we last parted. I need to know how much you know about it.”

“Oh, that.” Felara gave a wave of dismissal. “I only sensed a long journey ahead of you, that’s all. We Unborn sometimes get vague glimpses of the future.”

Barlo’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Felara’s features, but nothing in her open expression said she was lying. Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe her.

“We must travel to an unknown island that lies somewhere to the southwest,” Iarion said before Barlo could stop him.

“Iarion—”

The elf shook his head. “Barlo, either she’s being honest, and we should find out whether she can help us, or she already knows, in which case it makes no difference.”

Barlo scowled. He didn’t like it. If Felara was lying, she was sure to have a reason. Without any way of knowing how her strange mind worked, chances were they would never learn what that reason was until it was too late. He considered voicing his arguments, but the expression on Iarion’s face told him he would be wasting his breath.

I suppose I’ll have to settle for keeping my mouth shut and my eyes and ears open. If I don’t keep a solid eye on Iarion’s back, he’s going to head straight into disaster.

Iarion took Barlo’s silence as grudging acceptance and continued his tale, explaining the sickness of the Lord and Lady of the Sea Elves and their daughter’s disappearance.

“So you want to go after this Rasniwyn and the missing Sea Elves,” Felara said when he had finished.

“Yes,” Iarion said. “We’re also hoping we can find the herb that will cure Rasniwyn’s parents.”

“Who will be going with you on this journey?” Felara asked. She cocked her head in interest.

“Barlo and Lodariel,” Iarion said, his eyes darting to his friend.

“What of Lodariel’s brother and his mate? Haven’t they usually accompanied you in the past?”

“Silvaranwyn is pregnant,” Iarion said. Barlo nearly choked at his candor. “She and Daroandir will stay in Melaquenya.”

“And how does Lodariel feel about this? She and her brother are so close... Surely she would prefer to stay with him and comfort Silvaranwyn during her pregnancy?” Felara’s expression was mild, but Barlo wasn’t fooled by her pointed question for a moment.

Apparently, Iarion wasn’t either. “My mate is coming with me,” he said, giving Felara a level stare. “And I would appreciate any information or assistance you can provide.”

“Of course,” Felara said with a quirk of her lips. “What would you like to know?”

“Do you know where we can find this island?” Iarion asked.

“I am no seafarer, but I know some people who might be able to help.” Felara’s calculated expression turned worried. Her body tensed. “You will not travel all the way there by ship, will you?”

“No, the storms in this part of the world are too dangerous at this time of year,” Iarion said with a shake of his head. “We are planning to travel to the Riverlands and find a ship there.”

Felara’s shoulders relaxed. “That is good. The sea is a dangerous place. You must also be careful traveling overland though. Lasniniar is not the same place it was during any of your previous adventures.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps I should keep an eye on you... I would hate for anything to happen to you.” Barlo suspected Iarion was the only person included in her seemingly genuine concern.

Iarion and Barlo shared a silent look. If Felara decided to escort them across the continent, who knew how Lodariel would react?

“Ah, I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Iarion said.

“Nonsense!” Felara said with a wave. “You want to keep Barlo and Lodariel safe, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but⁠—”

“It’s settled,” Felara said, a note of finality in her voice. “This is far more interesting than anything else I have going on right now anyway. You set out on your little trip, and I’ll catch up with you.”

“Um, all right,” Iarion said, sounding dubious and looking as if he had been smacked upside the head.

“See you soon!” Felara gave a jaunty wave before shimmering out of existence.

Barlo said nothing, grabbing the front of Iarion’s tunic and dragging him toward the forest. This time, Iarion followed him without protest.

“What was that all about?” Barlo demanded in a hushed voice as soon as they reached the trees. “Now she’s coming with us! How are we supposed to explain this to Lodariel? Galrin’s gonads, she’s going to kill us.” Barlo began to pace.

Iarion took a steadying breath. “If it’s any consolation, Felara probably would have ended up following us anyway. Besides, she says she might know some people who can help us reach the island.”

“Yes, but can we really trust any of her friends? Who knows what kind of people she consorts with! They could be drakhalu for all we know.”

“Our only other choice is to trust our luck,” Iarion said. “We have no current contacts in the Riverlands.”

“All right, then how are we going to tell Lodariel?” Barlo tugged at his beard.

Iarion’s expression turned bleak. “Leave that to me.”

“Fine, but I want her to know I tried to stop you from starting all this madness. I don’t want to have to worry about her killing me in my sleep.”

“I said I’ll take care of it!” Iarion shouted. He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. “I just need to do one thing first.”

Barlo didn’t blame Iarion for wanting to put off the inevitable. He was just glad he was no longer living in Iarion and Lodariel’s hut. He could enjoy a quiet night in his own burrow.

Although if things go badly, Iarion might be joining me...

“Are you sure you want to do this thing now?” Barlo asked. “Sometimes it’s better to get these little domestic squabbles over with.”

Iarion gave a ghost of a smile. “I’m sure. Lodariel’s wrath can wait a bit longer.” He veered off the southern path, heading west. He beckoned for Barlo to follow.

“Come on. I have something to show you.”

* * *

Iarion led the way deeper into the forest, hoping he wasn’t about to make a mistake. He knew Barlo better than anyone, but he still wasn’t certain how the dwarf was going to react to what he was about to show him. Would he be excited, or would Iarion’s gift only remind him of what was missing from Barlo’s life since his rebirth? The last thing Iarion wanted was to hurt his friend. The one benefit of his growing concern was that it kept his mind off his inevitable confrontation and ensuing argument with Lodariel over Felara’s inclusion in their upcoming journey.

“Where are we going?” Barlo asked, breaking the silence.