Godmaker: A Novel of Lasniniar

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoHistory 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 i***t. 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 i***t. 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 Riverfolk 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 Riverfolk 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.

“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.