Harbingers: A Novel of Lasniniar

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Going to Ground

Daroandir cradled his mate’s limp body in his arms. She was an awkward burden with her distended belly. Silvaranwyn showed no signs of life as he ran with her, other than giving off a faint warmth against his chest. If she was still breathing, it was so shallow, he couldn’t tell.

Andirlynia said she was still alive...

He clung to the idea as he fled, unwilling to contemplate the alternative. In his most recent past life as Golaron, he had been a human, and she had been a Light Elf. She had watched him grow old and die, and had continued living on her own, until he had met her again in his current incarnation. He had never been left without her before.

He ran through the darkness, the swishing grass beneath his boots the only sound of his passage. Andirlynia and Valanandir were silent shadows weaving ahead of him. They had managed to leave the towering trees of Melaquenya behind without anyone noticing. Now they were south of the forest in the Rolling Hills.

“Where are we going?” he asked in a hushed voice between breaths. “If a border scout spots us from the forest...”

“Barlo’s burrow,” Andirlynia said.

Daroandir stumbled and nearly lost his footing. He saw Valanandir’s head swivel toward his daughter.

“Barlo’s burrow?” his voice sounded every bit as confused as Daroandir felt.

“It’s not far from here,” Andirlynia said, as if she had said nothing unusual.

“Andirlynia,” Daroandir said in a wary voice, “Barlo is dead. He died fighting the Khashada, remember?”

“Actually, he isn’t,” Andirlynia said. “He was reborn quite some time ago. You’ve even met him a few times.”

“What?” Daroandir shook his head in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Dwarves are not reborn.” The very idea challenged something inside him—some vague memory he could barely put his finger on. The moment slipped away before he could put his finger on it.

“Barlo is an exception. You’ve met him too, Father,” she said to Valanandir.

“Why don’t I remember it then?” Valanandir asked. “Like Daroandir said, dwarves aren’t exactly reborn every day.”

“Someone has tampered with our memories of him,” Andirlynia said. “I suspect Felara. Only one of the Unborn would have the power for such a thing, and she is the most cunning of all of them, from what we know. What I don’t understand is why she would do it in the first place.”

The suggestion that someone had tampered with their memories inside the borders of Melaquenya struck Daroandir as ludicrous.

“How would she be able to get past the shield?” Valanandir asked, voicing Daroandir’s unspoken question.

“I don’t know,” Andirlynia said. “But I’m sure she has. If you think about it long enough, I’m sure you could come up with a theory.” Valanandir was an expert strategist.

“Assuming what you say is correct,” he said in an even tone, “how is it that you know Barlo has returned, when the rest of us can’t remember?”

“Because I saw him,” Andirlynia said. “When the Quenya showed me that Silvaranwyn was still alive, I also saw her last memories before she lost consciousness.”

“Are you certain it wasn’t an older memory?” Valanandir asked.

“Very certain.” Andirlynia’s voice was grim. Daroandir felt a strange shiver go through him. “Look. We’re here.”

She stopped in front of a large, grass-covered hill that seemed indistinguishable from those surrounding it—other than the solid, wooden door and round, glass window.

“What—?” Daroandir shook his head in confusion as he slowed to a stop. He suddenly had the strange feeling he had seen this place before, and yet he had no memory of it.

Andirlynia opened the door and ushered them inside. The air was stale. After a moment of fumbling, she lit a lantern hanging on a peg by the front door. She held it aloft.

Daroandir and Valanandir gaped. The room beyond the door housed a fireplace, couch and chairs. Beyond that, he could make out a basic kitchen. A rounded tunnel sloped downward beyond it. The ceiling was high enough for an elf, but barely. He gently placed Silvaranwyn on the couch and wandered toward the tunnel. Valanandir and Andirlynia trailed after him.

The tunnel led to three separate bedrooms, each with their own working facilities. Two of the bedrooms had shorter beds that would be comfortable for a dwarf. The third bedroom had a proper, elf-sized bed.

“This is the guest bedroom,” Andirlynia said. “Iarion would stay here sometimes. The first bedroom is Barlo’s and the other is Paige’s.”

As she said the words, something clicked in Daroandir’s mind. He could see it. There had been flowers in the vase in Paige’s bedroom with the elven beadwork adorning the walls. Barlo’s clan tartan had hung on the wall above his bed.

“I’ve been here before!”

Daroandir’s eyes widened. Suddenly, everything came rushing back. Of course, Barlo was alive. How could he have possibly forgotten?

Andirlynia’s lips stretched in a faint smile. “See?”

“This is powerful magic,” Valanandir said with a frown. “And to think, Iarion thought him dead as well.”

“He must have been the target,” Daroandir said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He was the closest to Barlo. Writing him off would do him the most damage. He shares an anchor link with Barlo. An enchantment like this could have driven him mad.”

Valanandir gave the burrow a speculative look. “If everyone else still believes Barlo is dead and never came back, they would have no memory of this place.”

“Exactly,” Andirlynia said. “It will be a safe place to hide. The false memories of his death make it almost invisible.”

“I was hesitant to come inside when I saw the front door,” Valanandir said. “The conflict with my tampered memories made the idea uncomfortable.”

“Now we just need to round up Curuadil and Eransinta, and we can all hole up here until we can come up with a plan for dealing with Eruvalion,” Andirlynia said.

“Silvaranwyn!”

Daroandir suddenly remembered his unconscious mate. If she woke up alone... He raced up the tunnel to the main room. Silvaranwyn still lay motionless on the couch.

“Now that we have some breathing space, I might be able to reach her,” Andirlynia said.

“What about...?” Daroandir made a vague gesture toward Silvaranwyn’s rounded belly. He couldn’t bear to voice his question about the health of his unborn children.

“The bit of Quenya I can still access isn’t enough for me to reach them,” Andirlynia said with a shake of her head. “But if I can rouse Silvaranwyn, maybe she will be able to tell us.”

She knelt beside the couch and took her sister’s hand in her own. Her eyes closed.

Daroandir watched with his heart in his throat. Valanandir placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. They stood that way for countless moments, time slipping past them unnoticed as they waited for any sign of life from the fallen elf woman they both loved.

Andirlynia’s features became strained and her breathing labored. Still, nothing happened. After what seemed like an eternity, she slumped against the couch, her eyes fluttering open.

Just as Daroandir was tasting the bitterness of disappointment, Silvaranwyn’s chest heaved. She uttered a choked gasp that ended with a groan. Her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted open. Her lashes had nearly been glued shut with tears of blood.

“Daroandir?” Her normally musical voice emerged as a dull croak, but it made no difference to her mate. Valanandir helped Andirlynia move aside so Daroandir could take her place beside Silvaranwyn.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out to smooth her matted golden hair from her face.

Her golden eyes darted around the room with a trace of confused fear. “Are we in Barlo’s burrow?” Daroandir nodded. Her shoulders slumped. “Good. Not safe in the forest.”

“We know about Eruvalion,” Valanandir said. “He is the one who attacked you. Your mother had us flee the forest. He has taken control of the Quenya.”

“Eruvalion?” Silvaranwyn echoed.

“That elf who was obsessed with Mother,” Andirlynia said. “The dark creatures used him to control the Quenya back on Ralvaniar. Mother got him to commune with it, and it destroyed him—or so we thought.”

Silvaranwyn closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes. I remember Mother telling stories about him. He used the Quenya against me and left me for dead.” She opened her eyes and gave them a haunted look. “He wasn’t the only one.”

Valanandir frowned. “What do you mean? Someone else attacked you?”

Silvaranwyn nodded with a wince. “Eruvalion used magic, but no elven weapon did this.” She gestured to her battered skull. Daroandir noticed Andirlynia looking away with a frown.

He gripped his mate’s hand and looked deep into her eyes. “Who did this to you? I am not a violent elf, but whoever harmed you, I swear by the Quenya, I will see them suffer for it.”

Silvaranwyn met his gaze. Something in her eyes made it feel as though the earth was lurching beneath his feet. Her fingers squeezed his.

“It was Barlo.”