Storm Rider Lasniniar Collection

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Nobody’s Fool

Barlo leaned against the mountainside, looking out at the waving grasses of the Adar Daran. Over the years, he had taken to accompanying Sinstari above ground when the cat went hunting. It was a good excuse to get some fresh air and stretch his legs. As much as Barlo loved the mountain halls of Dwarvenhome, his feet got restless if he stayed there too long.

How the wildcat had managed to live so long was a mystery. At first, Barlo had given it little thought. Dwarves lived for centuries, and he frequently forgot his own seven hundred fifty-odd years. He knew the creatures bred by the Wild Elves had unnaturally long lifespans, but Barlo had known Sinstari for over two and a half centuries.

The only explanation he could come up with was the cat’s trips to Melaquenya. Although Sinstari had originally been Iarion’s companion in his previous life, he had lived with Barlo since Iarion’s death. Even though Iarion had been reborn, Sinstari stayed at Dwarvenhome, disappearing occasionally to visit Iarion in the Light Elves’ wood.

The magic of the Quenya must renew him somehow.

Barlo was distracted from his musings as Sinstari bounded toward him. He braced himself for an attack. Sinstari had a strange sense of humor. He sometimes pounced when Barlo wasn’t expecting it. Even though there was white in the cat’s fur now, he seemed just as strong and full of energy.

Sinstari sat at Barlo’s feet and looked up at him with unblinking eyes. After a moment, he stood and began walking south, looking back at Barlo over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Barlo asked. “Have you, ah, caught something?” The cat would often find something for Barlo after finishing his own meal. Barlo was apprehensive about these ‘gifts,’ since Sinstari’s taste in food was sometimes questionable.

The cat took a few more steps before looking back again. If Barlo didn’t follow soon, he would lose Sinstari in the tall grass.

He sighed. “All right. I’m coming. Just don’t lead me into any messes. It took me forever to scrape all that dung off my boots the last time.”

Sinstari glared at him, flattening his ears. His tail twitched.

“Oh, very well. I’m right behind you. No need to get huffy about it.”

As soon as Barlo started to follow him, Sinstari moved forward. Barlo had to use both arms to push the grass aside as he walked. A few moments later, Sinstari stopped, c*****g his head to one side. Then he launched into a run and was gone.

Barlo stopped with a groan. “Blasted cat. Is this some new game?”

He tensed, waiting for Sinstari to pounce on him. Nothing happened. He muttered some choice curses and started to walk in the direction the cat had run in. The muffled sound of a nearby voice brought him to a halt. He loosened his ax in his belt. These were peaceful times, but you never knew when you might come across some of Saviadro’s remaining dark creatures wandering the lands.

Barlo moved as quietly as he could, placing each step with care. Whoever was out there, he didn’t want to alert them.

As he drew nearer, the words became more distinct. He realized they were Elvish. They were also being spoken by a familiar voice. He pushed the grass aside to see Iarion crouched before Sinstari, stroking him as he spoke.

“Ah, Barlo,” Iarion said without looking up. “I thought I detected your light, dwarven steps.”

“Don’t mock me, elf,” Barlo growled. “Just call it ‘tromping’ and be done with it.”

“All right, tromping then. I will admit, it is better than the way most of your bearded friends walk. It must be my good influence.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Barlo said before frowning. “You’re earlier than I expected.”

Iarion stood and shrugged. “I made good time.”

Barlo’s eyes narrowed as he took in his friend’s appearance. At first glance, Iarion looked the same as he always did, but Barlo noticed small differences. Iarion’s golden skin appeared a bit wan and his eyes were haunted. It was subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but few knew Iarion as well as he did.

Iarion flashed him a smile that seemed a bit forced. “What is it?”

Barlo raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

Iarion’s eyes slid from his gaze. “I’m just tired. Nothing a meal and some sleep won’t cure.”

Barlo decided to let it drop. “Well you have good timing, as usual. If we head back now, we should be there for supper.”

Iarion’s smile turned genuine. “What are we waiting for then? Lead the way.”

The two friends made small talk as they walked to Dwarvenhome with Sinstari following them. Barlo kept the conversation light. Iarion bantered with him, seeming like his usual self.

Something was wrong. Barlo felt it in his bones. But he was willing to wait. Whatever it was, Iarion would tell him sooner or later. He always did.

Barlo let out a delicate belch as he sat on the couch with a tankard of ale. Iarion sat beside him, staring into the flames of the sitting-room fireplace. Sinstari was sprawled on the floor nearby, basking in the heat.

The rest of the house was quiet. Narilga had already gone to bed. She had developed a rattling cough a few years back when a fever had swept Dwarvenhome. She had tried several medicines, but she couldn’t seem to shake it. The fits left her breathless, and she tired easily.

Fidar would likely be out carousing until the wee hours of the morning. Barlo and Narilga were starting to wonder if he would ever settle down and take a wife.

Khalid and Ralla had visited for dinner when they had heard their Uncle Iarion had arrived. Both children had long since moved out and started families of their own. Ralla had just had her first child the year before. In a way, Barlo missed having all his children underfoot, but he enjoyed the quality time he and Narilga could now spend together without constant interruptions.

Barlo leaned back with a sigh, enjoying the companionable silence. He and Iarion had known each other for so long, they had no need to fill every moment with chatter. Still, his unanswered questions hung between them. There had been no opportunity for a private conversation since their arrival at Dwarvenhome. Iarion had been nothing but cheerful and friendly, but Barlo caught the occasional glimpse of that same haunted expression when no one else was looking. Barlo had said nothing of it to Narilga, but his worry grew. He waited patiently for Iarion to break the silence.

“Are you trying to wait me out?” Iarion asked in a soft voice, his golden and sapphire eyes still watching the flames.

“I know something is wrong,” Barlo said. “I didn’t want to push.”

Iarion gave a wry smile. “You know me too well.”

“It’s obvious that something has gotten you tied up in knots. If you want to talk about it, you know I’m here to listen. Maybe I can help.”

Iarion took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. “I’ve had a vision.”

“That’s not unusual,” Barlo said. “You are a Light Elf now, after all.”

“The vision didn’t come from the Quenya.”

Barlo frowned. “What do you mean? Where else would a vision come from?” A flutter of suspicion rose in the pit of his stomach, accompanied by a wave of dread. “Iarion, please tell me the vision didn’t come from—”

“It came from the Forbidden Pool.” Iarion let his breath out in a rush.

The Forbidden Pool. Barlo had been there when Iarion had drunk its inky waters. Barlo had tried to stop him, but he had been too late.

“How is that possible?” Barlo asked. “You haven’t even been to the Forbidden Pool in this lifetime, never mind drinking from it.”

Iarion shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s as if it affected not only my body, but my soul as well, following me into this life.”

“It only shows the dark side of things. You know that. The visions twist everything around.”

“Yes, but there is always truth to the visions as well,” Iarion said. “I can’t just ignore them.”

Barlo almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to know... “What did the vision show you?”

Iarion looked down at his drink. “There were many images. It was too confusing to remember them all. I saw elves. They were killing one another. I also heard some of them speaking in the Black Tongue. Then I saw a dragon rising from a dark swamp. It flew straight toward me.”

“You remember nothing else?”

Iarion looked up, meeting his gaze without flinching. “No.”

Barlo almost believed him. Almost. But he knew Iarion, and if the elf had seen something from the Forbidden Pool that involved him, Iarion would try to shield him from it.

And would knowing make any difference? Probably not. I can’t live my life based on dark premonitions. That wouldn’t be living at all.

Barlo pushed his thoughts aside, focusing on what Iarion had told him.

“Where was this swamp?” he asked. “Could you see any other landmarks?”

Iarion’s tension seemed to soften somewhat. “It was too dark to see anything, but I got the feeling it was somewhere to the south. The air was very warm.”

“That makes sense. No one’s charted the south lands. There could be anything down there.”

“The last dragon, Malarin, flew over those lands shortly after the elves came to Lasniniar,” Iarion said. “She only reported a wide stretch of desert.”

“Huh. This swamp must be quite far south then. You wouldn’t find something like that near a desert.”

“You’re right...” Iarion’s voice trailed off and his eyes unfocused.

“You’re thinking of looking for it, aren’t you?” Barlo’s eyes narrowed.

Iarion blinked. “I—well, yes. For years, I’ve had this strange feeling that something dark is out there, and it’s only been growing. Only a few of my people believe me. The Quenya hasn’t provided any warnings, and the lands have been peaceful since Saviadro’s death. Most seem to think I’m only stirring up trouble, but I can’t shake this feeling.”

Iarion took a deep breath. “Now that I’ve been given a vision that confirms my suspicions, I have to do something about it. What if there is some dark threat out there? I can’t take that chance.”

“Even though your vision came from the Forbidden Pool?” Barlo asked.

“Yes.” Iarion didn’t even hesitate.

“Have you spoken with Iadrawyn about this?”

“Not yet,” Iarion said. “I wanted to wrap my head around it first. I’m going to meet with her when I return to Melaquenya.”

Barlo took a long pull on his tankard, thinking for a moment. “How about I go with you to Melaquenya? I haven’t been away from the city for a while, and I always enjoy seeing Iadrawyn.”

Iarion smiled. “I would like that. You’re a good friend, Barlo.”

“Better than an elf deserves,” Barlo said with a grin. “Now why don’t we drink and talk about happier things?”

Barlo shuffled into his bedroom sometime later. Narilga had left a lantern burning on his side of the bed. She lay peacefully under the covers, facing him, her animated features gone slack.

Barlo smiled. Even after all these years, he still thought her beautiful. In sleep, the fine lines that etched the corners of her eyes and mouth had gone smooth. He often forgot how old they both were until he noticed the silver in her long, dark hair and remembered that his beard was peppered with the same color.

He quietly undressed and slipped into bed beside her. Before he could blow out the lantern, her eyes fluttered open. She looked over at him with a smile.

“Are you and Iarion having a nice visit?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

“Yes, but...” Barlo struggled with how to explain his planned trip to Melaquenya.

“You’re going away again.”

Barlo sighed. She knew him too well. “I’m only going back with Iarion for a short visit. He’s going through a tough time. It should only take a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Iarion’s not staying in Melaquenya, is he?” Narilga made the question a statement.

Barlo frowned. “How did you...”

Narilga gave a dry chuckle that ended with a series of coughs. “I may not know Iarion as well as you do, but I know him well enough.”

“He has a long journey ahead of him.”

“And a dangerous one, no doubt,” she said.

“Very dangerous,” Barlo agreed.

“Why aren’t you going with him?”

For a moment, Barlo was at a loss for words. “But I could be gone for months! And you’ve been ill...”

Narilga took his hand. “I know you’ve been restless again. You can’t stay pinned here forever. I’ve had this cough for years now. It’s not as if I’m bedridden. Besides, I know you would only worry about Iarion if you weren’t there to keep an eye on him.”

“Are you sure?” Barlo couldn’t deny he wanted to accompany Iarion on his quest.

“I’m sure. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. I’ll make sure Khalid doesn’t make any foolish mistakes with the council, and everything will be fine. Just make sure you come back to me.” She kissed his fingers.

Barlo smiled. “I always do.”

“Good. It’s all settled then. You can tell me all the details in the morning. Now why don’t you hold me for a bit?”

Barlo held out his arm and Narilga snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. With his other arm, he reached out to lift the glass globe of the lantern and blew out the flame. Moments later, Narilga’s breathing slowed once more.

Barlo’s mind wandered back to Iarion’s vision. What else had he seen? The thought nagged at him, despite his decision to dismiss it. If he went with Iarion on this quest, perhaps he would find out.

He was excited at the thought of another adventure. It would be like old times. Still, he wished it didn’t mean leaving Narilga behind. If she hadn’t mentioned it, he would have never brought up the idea of accompanying Iarion south.

Narilga stirred in her sleep. Barlo stroked her back and she uttered a contented sigh.

I’m the luckiest dwarf in the world.

Barlo fell asleep with her in his arms.