Void Walker: A Novel of Lasniniar

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Hard Truths

Iarion entered the hut he shared with Lodariel, Golhura trailing behind him. He found his mate serving wooden platters of herb encrusted, roasted vegetables to Daroandir and Silvaranwyn in the front room of the hut, which was the sitting area. Lodariel looked up as she placed her burdens in front of her brother and his mate, flashing Iarion a smile. The glimmers of late afternoon sun coming through the front window gave her golden skin a warm glow, and brought out the fiery strands of her red-golden braids. Her twin shared her coloring, but he had a more reserved countenance, and his eyes were golden rather than Lodariel’s vivid green. Silvaranwyn looked in fine form. She wore a flowing dress that draped over the expanding curve of her belly. She had always had a close connection to the Quenya that gave her golden eyes, hair, and skin an inner glow, but these days, she was radiant, living up to the meaning of her name as the Maid of Sunset.

“Iarion!” Lodariel greeted him. “I was just about to send out a search party.” Her gaze flickered to the wildcat and a puzzled frown clouded her features. “What is Golhura doing here?”

Iarion gave a shrug of apology. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after dinner.” He wasn’t ready to go into what had happened in front of an audience. Golhura curled up in a corner of the room and started grooming herself.

“Well, you might as well sit down,” Lodariel said. “My foraging was quite profitable today. I found several herbs that should be good for Silvaranwyn and the baby.”

Silvaranwyn smiled and placed a fond hand over her abdomen. “You mean babies,” she said in her soft, musical voice.

Lodariel nearly dropped her own plate as she sat down to join them. “You mean...”

Silvaranwyn nodded. “I’m having twins again. I communed with them today while I was taking my turn in the Glade of the Quenya, maintaining the shield.” Daroandir wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, beaming with pride.

“Congratulations!” Iarion said, meaning it. Twins were extremely rare among elves. Even though Silvaranwyn had borne twins with Daroandir before, it had been during his human incarnation as Golaron.

“It seems to be becoming a family tradition,” Lodariel said with a grin. She reached over to give Daroandir a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Iarion was a twin in his first incarnation, there’s us, and now your new brood. Do you know their names yet?” Her gaze shifted to Silvaranwyn.

The other elf woman shook her head. “No. It’s too soon. Perhaps after I commune with them some more and the bond grows stronger.”

“Well, at least something good is coming out of all that time you spend with the Quenya lately,” Lodariel huffed. “I keep worrying that they’re working you too hard maintaining the shield. It wears her right out,” she said to Iarion. “She keeps needing longer and longer naps. It can’t be good for her in her current condition.”

Silvaranwyn bit her lip and avoided Lodariel’s gaze, but shot Iarion a pleading look. The moment passed so quickly, Iarion thought he might have imagined it, but a sneaking suspicion rose within him.

Something tells me Silvaranwyn isn’t as tired as she’s letting Lodariel think she is...

“I think spending time with the Quenya and the babies can only be a good thing,” Daroandir said, speaking for the first time in his quiet voice. “If nothing else, the Glade is the safest place in the wood.”

Lodariel rolled her eyes. “Daroandir gets to join the patrols on the northern border, while I’m relegated to the east.” She snorted. “As if any of the humans would bother to approach from that front. They may be fanatical fools, but they’re not stupid enough to try circling us in full view of our scouts.”

Daroandir leaned forward. “You know we need someone Iadrawyn and Valanandir can trust to lead the eastern patrol.”

“I’m one of the best warriors in Melaquenya!” Exasperation colored Lodariel’s words. “Anyone could lead the eastern patrol. I’d be of far more use on the northern border with you. It’s almost as if I’m being punished for something, while you get to have all the fun.”

Daroandir rolled his eyes. “Agonizing over whether or not to kill the misguided humans who insist on attacking the wood is not fun.”

Lodariel gave a negligent wave. “You know what I mean. Nothing happens on the eastern border! Our ships on the river see to that. I don’t see any point in having a land patrol as well. Besides, if I’m going to have to spend time away from taking care of Silvaranwyn, I should at least be on the same patrol as you. I feel like I hardly see you anymore!”

Daroandir sighed. “I know. But Iadrawyn and Valanandir want you leading the eastern patrol. They must have their reasons.” His gaze slid away for a moment. “So are you going to tell us about what herbs you found today?”

Lodariel immediately launched into the topic with enthusiasm, her frustration forgotten for the moment in one of her mercurial shifts of mood. Iarion only listened with half an ear as she chattered on about the benefits of each plant.

Something had just happened. He was sure of it. The strange disorientation he had been experiencing since Golhura’s sudden appearance seemed to making him more sensitive to other people’s behavior. He ran over the exchange between Daroandir and Lodariel several times as the meal went on, until their guests rose to depart. He gave them both a distracted embrace before they went out the door to find their own hut, deeper inside the forest. The sky was darkening. Lodariel went back inside to light the lanterns, filling the sitting room with a cozy glow. She began stacking the empty plates.

“Twins again!” she said with a shake of her head. “I had hoped, of course, but...”

“You know why Silvaranwyn is taking so many naps, right?” Iarion said, going over to help her clean up.

Lodariel gave him a startled look. “No. Why?”

Iarion took a deep breath and tried to choose his next words with care. The last thing he wanted was to face his mate’s considerable temper.

“Well, you and Daroandir both work different shifts,” he said. Maybe she would be able to piece it together without him spelling it out.

“So? I may not like it, but that was part of the plan. We take turns taking care of her.”

“Other than the time she spends with the Quenya maintaining the shield, most of her time is spent with either you or Daroandir.” Iarion gave her a pleading look, but his mate still seemed baffled. He threw up his arms in defeat. “She never gets any time to herself!”

Lodariel’s brow furrowed. “So when she says she needs a nap...”

“She probably just wants some alone time.” Iarion nodded. “She’s not the kind of elf who always needs to be in someone else’s company. I know your intentions are good, but she’s probably feeling a bit smothered. It’s not as if she’s ever really alone now anyway. Not only that, but she’s been pregnant before. She knows how to take care of herself.” His voice was gentle.

Lodariel collapsed onto a seating pillow. “I’m only trying to help...” She shook her head.

“I know.” Iarion sat beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And I’m sure she appreciates that. Yes, she knows how to take care of herself, but she was also probably quite lonely the last time she was pregnant. She was the only elf living in a human city, doomed to leave Melaquenya for what she thought would be the rest of her life. You just might want to reel it in a bit. You’re even more solicitous than Daroandir, and he’s the father. You’re like a mother hen with a little chick.”

Lodariel let out a shuddering sigh. “I know Silvaranwyn is strong enough to take care of herself. It’s just...” She gave a helpless shrug.

“Is it that you wish you were the one who was pregnant?” Iarion’s voice was almost a whisper. He and Lodariel had never had a discussion about children before. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

Lodariel burst into laughter. “No! Whatever gave you that idea?”

He gave a bewildered shake of his head. “It seemed like a logical assumption...”

Lodariel turned serious. “I’m not totally against the idea of having children at some point, but I honestly can’t picture us having any right now, can you?”

Iarion bit his lip. “I suppose not.”

“Of course not! You’re always traipsing all across Lasniniar on some kind of quest, and I’m not the kind of mate who’s going to be left behind. I think we’ve already established that on multiple occasions.” She gave him a level look. “I could travel with you, and give birth on the road, but the outside world has become a more dangerous place lately. I would never want to be in a position where our newborn children would be in danger, or could be used against us.” She made a face. “Why do you think I take that bundle of herbs in my tea every night? It’s not for the flavor, believe me.”

“Yes, I see what you mean. But why are you fawning all over Silvaranwyn then?”

Lodariel shrugged. “I’m making up for lost time. I missed out on my brother and Silvaranwyn having children the first time. This is a second chance for me to be a part of that. I’ll finally get a chance to be the aunt I always expected to be—the best aunt any child could ask for.”

Iarion pursed his lips. He supposed it made sense. Lodariel had died in her previous life as Linwyn before her brother and Silvaranwyn had gotten married. They had gone on to have a long, married life together until her brother had eventually died of old age. Lodariel had only met her half-elven niece and nephew long after they had grown up, and they had no idea of her relation to them. The rebirth of two Greater Humans as elves was a closely guarded secret. Since the event had been an anomaly that was most likely related to the fact that Lodariel and Daroandir had originally been born as elves in their first incarnations, no one wanted to spread false hope among the rest of the humans about the possibility of being reborn.

“Huh,” Iarion said. “That makes total sense.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I should have asked you sooner. I’ve been half-afraid you’ve been struggling with baby fever. I’m not ready to be a father right now either.”

“Foolish elf,” Lodariel said with a teasing smile, which turned into a frown. “But why didn’t Silvaranwyn just tell me she wanted some time alone?”

“She probably was afraid of hurting your feelings.”

Lodariel rolled her eyes. “Has everyone been tiptoeing around me all this time then?”

Iarion reached out and tweaked one of her braids. “Probably.” He toyed with its silken length between his fingers for a moment. “But I know one thing for certain. There is a reason why you’ve been stationed on the eastern border instead of with Daroandir.”

Lodariel straightened, jerking her braid free. “What? What are you talking about?”

Iarion shrugged. “I don’t know, but Daroandir seemed evasive to me. He changed the subject just a bit too quickly.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Lodariel scowled. “I should have known better. Since when has he asked me to prattle on about herbs?” She started to rise from her seat, presumably to go after her brother, but Iarion placed a firm hand on her arm.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Lodariel’s gaze flicked to Golhura. “I suppose it has something to do with her.”

Iarion nodded. “It does.”

He launched into a retelling of the afternoon’s events, including the discovery of the burrow and Barlo’s clan tartan. Lodariel was silent for a long time afterward.

“So you want to go to Dwarvenhome,” Lodariel said in a level voice.

“Yes. I don’t know what all this means, but I feel like I need to find out.” He had carefully avoided any mention of the strange sense of loss he had been feeling. It was too nebulous. He knew if he was going to convince Lodariel of anything, he needed to stick with concrete evidence—Barlo’s clan tartan.

“You want to believe Barlo lived there, don’t you?” she asked. There was a trace of pity in her green eyes. “Iarion, it’s not possible. Dwarves are never reborn. Why would he live so close to us and never make himself known?”

“I know!” Iarion shook his head in frustration. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Someone from his clan must have lived there.”

Lodariel’s eyes widened. “Anyone could have lived there! It could have been any manner of creature, who picked up Barlo’s clan tartan as a memento somewhere along the way. It’s not as if he never dropped anything on his travels across the lands.”

Iarion set his jaw. “I need to find out for certain. It’s a short journey to Dwarvenhome. I’ll only be gone for a few days.”

“Even though I’m sure Silvaranwyn can take care of herself, I would feel better staying behind, as long as you’re coming straight back,” Lodariel mused. “And I am the leader of the eastern patrol, even though it might only be a diversion. You know, the more I think about that, the more it makes sense. I mean, you were never even asked to join a patrol, and you’re at least as good a warrior as I am.”

“Thanks,” Iarion said in a dry voice.

Lodariel shook herself and met his gaze. “Never mind that. If you need to go to Dwarvenhome to put your mind at ease, fine. I just don’t want you going off to chase at ghosts.” She reached over to take his hand. “Barlo is gone. He’s been gone for a long time now. I know you still blame yourself, but you need to let go.” She gave him an earnest look. “I wish it were different, but nothing is going to bring him back—not even that ankh necklace of yours.”

Iarion used his free hand to finger the golden pendant at his throat of a cross surmounted by a loop. It had been a gift of the goddess Bastet for freeing her people from the tyranny of the Lion Folk and restoring the balance of power on Belidaria. It was a symbol of the boon she had promised him—anything he asked, so long as it was within her power.

He had considered using it to bring Barlo back, but his friend’s body had long since decomposed and the idea of violating the First Father’s Hall to summon his soul back to the realm of the living felt sacrilegious. Besides, Barlo was no follower of Bastet, and Iarion suspected the First Father’s Hall was beyond her reach. He knew it was only his own selfish desires that made him even consider the idea. Nothing else had seemed important enough for him to call in the favor owed to him. His fingers slipped from the pendant.

“I know,” he said in a rough voice. “You’re right. But I still want to go to Dwarvenhome.”

Lodariel nodded in understanding. Her expression turned sly. “Then maybe we should tell Golhura to go hunting for a few hours. If you’re going to be gone for a few days, I had better say good-bye to you properly.”

Iarion reached across the table to stroke her cheek, making her shiver. “You know, I should have thought of that myself.”