“You better get used to her, father,” Falraan said, squaring her shoulders at the man. “She is coming home to live with us.”
Lehan rocked back on his heels. “What do you mean? I am already outnumbered in my own household by an overabundance of women, unless they have moved out in my absence.”
His daughter shook her head. “No, she is going to live with Tornin and me, father.” Falraan’s eye went wide for a moment then her shoulders slumped in defeat as Lehan smiled hugely.
“Do not play your games with me,” Lehan admonished her while pulling her into an embrace.
“This victory goes to the Truthseeker,” Oen said with a chortle.
“What do you mean?” Iris asked. “Did I miss something?”
“Did you not wonder why Falraan did not share her news with her father immediately?” Oen gave Iris a squeeze. “It is a game she and her young brother play with their father. They try with a passion to force their father to puzzle over their mysteries until he feels no recourse but to use his gift. If she makes him use his gift before he can wean the truth through other means it is a grand victory for her. This victory goes to the Truthseeker, I am afraid.”
“Fal is not half the player Micah is,” Lehan smiled. “Someone is coaching that boy in how to hold his mysteries close. But enough of the game.” He held his daughter out by her shoulders and smiled wide. “I thought he would never succumb to your wiles.”
Lehan stopped in puzzlement, looking back and forth between the two women. “Why would Iris live with you? She is wed to Lorace is she not?”
“Father!” Falraan said in exasperation before turning to look apologetically to Iris.
Lehan released Falraan’s shoulders and turned toward Iris with a bow. “Forgive me, my Lady. I am an unthinking clod. I yield this point to my daughter.”
“I have already made my peace with it,” Iris said with an unconvincing smile. “I am living a lifetime for each day I have with him. I will have these memories and my prayers to him to fulfill me for the rest of my days.”
“Not true, my Lady, entirely not true.” Lehan said as he met her deep green eyes then lowered his gaze down to her waist.
Iris slowly put her hands to her belly and her face froze into an expressionless mask.
“Iris, what is it?” Falraan flustered at her reaction. “Do not let father bait you.”
“I do not bait her, daughter,” Lehan said with a lowered voice. “She is going to have his child.”
His child! Iris sagged back against Oen’s solidity. Her mind went numb and ecstatic in the same breath. She looked on the happiness in everyone’s faces and lowered her eyes.
“Please,” she said. “This must be kept hidden from him. His love for me is already dangerously strong. What he faces is hard enough, if he knows he risks not only me but a child as well, his certainty will falter.”
“Iris, you cannot keep this from him,” Oen said. “He has already faced enough betrayal, allow him to share this joy with you for the time you have together. Trust him. You must trust him to remain resolute to his task. He knows already what he risks if he fails. The outcome is the same as before to him, fail and lose everything, win and all is saved. Let him know that everything now includes the added joy of a child to be with you when he can no longer be.”
She turned toward the blurring image of Lehan, her eyes clouding with tears. “Is this the truth of things? Will this strengthen his resolve?”
Lehan’s stern face softened in a smile. “The truth, dear Lady, is that he already knows. He has known since your collapse last night. His sight revealed your state while he agonized over you. It has been his concern that should you know, it would make his loss all the harder for you. His love for you is indeed dangerously strong. The gods conspired that he would not have that love, for they feared it would weaken him, just as you fear his knowledge of this child would. Both you and the gods are wrong; the knowledge of this child is all that makes ascending tolerable to him now.”
“If you knew he did not want me to know, why did you tell me?” Iris demanded of him.
“That is the paradox of my gift, dear Lady,” Lehan said with a slow shake of his head. “The act of telling you the truth of your blessing revealed the deeper truth of his desire for you not to know.”
She gasped for breath as Lehan’s ‘truth’ sunk down upon her, like a weight on her chest driving her own fallacy from her lungs.
“It is Lorace’s truth that is correct,” Iris said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I do not think I will be able bear his loss.”
“Iris,” Falraan cried as she embraced her. “We will help you. Oh, nobody should have to endure this…” She gave her own ragged gasp. “I am sorry. Words fail me.”
“I have Micah and Falraan to remember their mother, Milah, by,” Lehan said in commiseration. “Without them, her loss would have been far harder, though it was not at first. At first, I felt only despair, but there was an infant, and a blossoming daughter who needed their mother even more than I. It was the most selfish time of my life, my pain was only for myself and their pain only added to it. Every truth my gift revealed, betrayed a deeper more painful truth about myself. Over time, all those layers of despair peeled away and I realized what it was I still had: this fiery, disobedient, headstrong daughter and a son who has grown to be more steadfast to his mother’s ideals than I could have hoped. They are two blessed gifts that make life continuously wonderful.”
All were quiet as Iris dried her tears on the hem of her cloak and thought on Lehan’s words. They were very persuasive words, and she could not mistake the truth within them. Lehan’s eyes bore the memory of his despair, but Lorace’s chain had exorcised the pain. Falraan went back to her father to hold him close with her head upon his shoulder, and Lehan’s eyes softened.
Oen broke the silence growing among them. “If you want to hide your knowledge from him, Iris, we will not betray you. But you should know that I stand with what I said about allowing him to share this joy with you during the time you have together.”
“You are right, of course,” she agreed. “For now, though, he sleeps.”
Lehan patted his daughter’s back. “Good, now that that is settled, you both have something else you wish to ask me?” he asked, nodding at the identical godstone necklaces they wore. “You can draw my attention to it all you wish daughter, but I will not fall prey to your game. If you want to know, you will have to ask me.”
Once again, Falraan slumped in exasperated defeat. “Very well, father. Please tell us the truth of this godstone we wear.”
Lehan nodded, satisfied with his victory, before he reached out to lift the trapped ring of his daughters necklace in his hand. Iris could see Falraan’s apprehension growing while Lehan paused.
After he had examined the ring for several long moments, Falraan spoke, “What is it, father? The paradox again?”
Lehan grimaced. “If I speak the truth I see, more truths will be revealed, and I feel there are many layers to the truth of these. I have never used my gift on godstone before. It is the stuff of legend and heroism. The gods bestow godstone on their heroes for specific tasks. Lorace’s chain, he calls Sakke Vrang, is the first I have seen and I have not used my gift upon it—only on what it did to me when I touched it. I do not mean to be obscure in this, but it is daunting.”
Iris frowned. “Do you see something bad in the truth of our necklaces?”
“No, not at all, but until I speak it, I only see the outermost layer of truth,” Lehan explained. “I am named Truthseeker because of how my gift works. It is not just that I see the truth, but that even a simple truth often comes in these layers, and I must seek through them to get to the final truth. I am apprehensive of your necklaces because I have never felt the presence of so many layers of truth before.”
“And you cannot see the deeper truths until you speak the truths above?” Iris asked.
“That is the way of his gift,” Oen answered for his brother.
<
br /> Iris pulled her elven cloak tighter against the cold wind that blew more heavy clouds in from the East, and settled in to wait for Lehan to proceed.
The priest took a deep breath before he spoke, “The first truth is that these are gifts of sincere love from Lorace and Vorallon both.”
Iris met Falraan’s smile at this with a smile of her own, and reached out to clutch her hands. Her love for Lorace grew even more by this token of his love for her. The affirmation of Vorallon’s love was comforting as well. She could almost feel his presence in the rocking of the ocean swells, gentle, but full of dauntless power.
“The next truth,” Lehan said after a pause, “Is that they are not tied to your destinies, but to Vorallon’s destiny and, to a lesser degree, Lorace’s destiny. Vorallon intends them to belong to you and to your progeny, as did Lorace when he formed them of their original silver.”
Falraan shared a wide-eyed look with Iris. “Father, you do not mean that I am with child as well?”
Lehan smiled at his daughter. “No, but a father can hope for the future, can he not?”
“What deeper truth does this reveal?” Iris asked, ignoring their exchange except to give Falraan’s hand tender squeeze.
“Vorallon intends them to be conduits of his will,” Lehan said.
“Lorace has shown us the godstone core of Vorallon’s spirit,” Oen mused. “The gods draw this substance out of Vorallon with which to bless their heroes. We know this already to be true of godstone—it works with the will of Vorallon.”
“That is not true,” Lehan said with a stubborn shake of his head. “When they take godstone from Vorallon they do so without his blessing. When they purpose the godstone through the ritual of the forge, they create a conduit of their own wills, not Vorallon’s. Vorallon merely guides the forging at their behest.”
“Is that the next layer of truth?” Iris asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes,” Lehan replied. “The godstone of your necklaces and the glyphs did not pass through such a ritual, they remain true to Vorallon. In his own way, Vorallon is more akin to us than are the Old Gods. He exists here and now with us, though only the dwarves, who have taken the time to listen deep within the rock, have heard his voice. We go to save his life as well as our own. He intends these gifts to be his weapons. As was his intention for imbuing the silver glyphs with godstone, he arms us to be his defenders.”
Lehan wavered, frowning warily. “So many truths, I want to be afraid to delve into this, but Lorace’s chain emboldens me. The next truths I see in these may change how we view everything we have ever believed to be true.”
Iris stepped forward to reach out a hand to Lehan so that she clasped both father and daughter. “Can you see yet what it is we make these necklaces do? That is what we must know if we are to wield them in Vorallon’s defense. We need delve no further into matters of reality.”
Lehan squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his head between his hands, pained by the words he was shaping his lips to speak, “No! Neither of you make them do anything. They are for Vorallon and Chreen to wield.”
Iris and Falraan looked to one another wide-eyed, but before they could question Lehan’s words, Oen spoke, “Lord Aran told me of Chreen-”
“What or who is Chreen?” Iris interrupted, dropping her hands to clench into fists at her sides. “I have not heard this name before. Speak plainly.”
“Lorace will become Chreen when he ascends,” Oen said in a low whisper. “Lorace’s brothers were not named Aran and Lorn when they were mortals. Only after their ascendance did the Old Gods so name them. Lorace has told me that Aran was known as Jorune, and Lorn was his eldest brother Bartalus.”
“I remember now, you asked him in Halversome before our departure if he wished to know the name he would take as a god,” Iris said turning back toward where her mate lay sleeping. “He does not know.”
“No, not yet, Iris,” Oen lowered his voice to keep it out of earshot of anyone beyond their small group. “He only knows that he will not be known as Lorace once he ascends. This is why he has asked us to always call him Lorace. He wants none of us to ever address him as this Chreen.”
“But why must the Old Gods change his name?” Iris demanded. “Everyone here or still in Halversome knows him as Lorace, must his identity be hidden from them?”
“I do not know the answer to this,” Oen said with a frown. “Aran did not explain it to me.”
“Lorace may know why, though he is unfamiliar with what the Old Gods plan on calling him,” Iris said. “I suspect he knows a great deal more about his destiny than he has dared share with us. I will have to take it up with him, unless you know the truth of this as well, Lehan?”
Lehan shook his head. “My gift often fails where the Lords and Old Gods are concerned, their reasons and motives exist beyond my scope, I am sorry. Just seeing Chreen’s name revealed, in the truth of your necklaces, pained me. The perfect circles on your chains are the symbols of Chreen. Lorace bears the marks.”
“On his palms,” Iris said with a nod. “He said they manifested during the ritual of the forge when Sakke Vrang was made, a perfect circle upon each hand.”
“Indeed. They did not exist upon him before then,” Oen assured her.
“Does this mean that Falraan and I are to be the left and right hands of the god Lorace is to become?” Iris asked.
“The full extent of that is unclear, muddled by the will of gods,” Lehan replied. “Foremost, though, you shall be Vorallon’s hands, but there is more. You asked what the necklaces do, and I have only answered half of the truth. What I tell you now, you must hold with the first truth of the necklaces: these are symbols of Lorace and Vorallon’s love. With your permission they will allow the spirit of Vorallon to use your gifts—and any gifts of your descendants.”
Iris released her hold of Falraan and Lehan, stepping back while her eyes rolled wide. She bumped into Oen who laid his big hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “They need our permission to use our gifts, right? Falraan’s gift is deadly and mine is inherently cruel and unforgivable—every man of Zuxra knows this too well. Only in dire circumstance, like that which we head toward, could I see giving one I loved and trusted as deeply as Lorace permission to wield my gift,” Falraan nodded in agreement as Iris continued. “How is it that we give our permission? Or deny it?”
Lehan nodded. “This is the final truth I can see. To grant permission you must wear the circle on your finger, it will slip from the unbroken chain when you do so. Deny permission by returning the circle to the chain.”
“The risk is just too great for me to grant that permission to any,” Iris insisted.
While they talked, the temperature had been dropping, and the sky darkening with more low clouds. Now a dusting of snow was falling upon their heads and shoulders.
“Thank you, Lehan,” Iris said, shrugging deeper into her warm elven cloak. “We have a lot to think upon regarding what you have shared with us,” she put her hand to her belly. “The truth makes one forget about things that are most important, but it is comforting in some aspects.”
She turned to Falraan whose red hair sparkled with a crown of snowy diamonds. “How ever did you manage growing up with him?”
Falraan chuckled, welcoming the change in subject. “Mother and I took it upon ourselves never to lie to him, that is sure, but we made a game of it, which you have seen us play several times this morning. Micah plays a hiding game which he began before father left on his crusade, quite a masterful ploy which father has yet to rise to.”
Iris remembered Lorace asking to speak privately with Micah and grew dubious. “I think you might want to discover the truth about that, Lehan, game or not.”
“He is just a lad playing at dodging his chores,” Lehan said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Iris nodded at this, letting the subject go. She was willing to let Lorace keep his secrets for involving Micah to himself, for now.
“Do you see any change to the
blight, Oen?” Iris asked.
Oen scanned the horizon. “It is keeping its distance.”
“I cannot sense it at all, I just feel a general uneasiness when I look toward Ousenar,” Lehan said. “Otherwise I could employ my gift to ascertain this truth as well.”
“When Lorace awakens he can share his sight with you, you will be able to see the blight, and that may help us all in understanding what we face.”
“How much longer should we let him sleep?” Oen asked while looking out toward Ousenar. “I grow uneasy each moment we are idle, knowing it is out there, yearning for us.”
“I doubt he will sleep much longer,” Iris said. “With his spirit driven vitality, he recovers swiftly. Let us get these glyphs distributed among the ships. Oen, choose two priests to accompany each.”
Falraan left to gather sailors to prepare a launch, while Oen went among his priests, bearing three of the godstone glyphs.
“Lehan?” Iris lowered her voice to the Truthseeker. “May I ask you something personal?”
“Yes, Lady Iris. I know what you would ask,” his eyes turned toward the clouds dropping their snow to melt in the sea. “I knew that my wife was going to die with the birth of my son.”
“What did you tell her when you knew?” Iris asked in a whisper. “When she asked the truth.”
“Are you sure you want to know this?” he countered, turning back toward her.
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. Lehan answered softly, a distant memory of pain in his voice. “I told her she was going to be fine, a half lie, for in Jaarda she would be well.”
Iris leaned in and hugged Lehan tight. “You did her a great kindness.”
“I know,” Lehan put an arm around her shoulders. “It took me a long time to accept that, but when I see my children smile at me with her eyes, I know it was the right thing to say, truth be damned.”
“Is it fair for us all to be talking about what will happen after we face what lies ahead?” Iris asked. “Do you think we tell the same lie to ourselves?”
Gifts of Vorallon: 03 - Lord of Vengeance Page 9
