Godmaker: A Novel of Lasniniar: The World of Lasniniar, #6

By Jacquelyn Smith

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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WaywardScribe Press
• Release date: Dec 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781927723272

Jacquelyn Smith

Jacquelyn Smith writes both epic and intrigue-based fantasy, and mysteries that range from cozy to kick-ass, with independent, strong-willed heroes, in search of their place in the world. These heroes take the problems they face seriously (but never themselves), and are supported by unlikely friendships they forge along the way. Jacquelyn is the author of the World of Lasniniar epic fantasy series, the Fatal Empire fantasy intrigue series, the kick-ass Kira Brightwell mysteries, and the Mackenzie Quinn Canadian cozy mysteries. (She originally published several of the early Kira Brightwell titles under the pen name Kat Irwin, before killing Kat off to eliminate the many awkward questions about having a second identity.) When spending time in the real world, Jacquelyn lives on the suburban outskirts of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, with her husband, Mark, and their feline owner, Xena, who is definitely a warrior princess. To learn more, visit: JacquelynSmithBooks.com

Book preview

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 explicatives. 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