by Amber Burns
Golau sighed. “That is not entirely how it happened, and please refrain from using such language. What happened between your mother and I was nothing so crass. Anfarwol meant for your mother and I to meet. She meant for you to be conceived.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did your mother tell you nothing of this?”
Liandrya scoffed. “Mothers tend not to have meaningful heart-to-hearts with the newborn babies they abandon in the forest,” she replied bitterly.
Golau’s eyes widened in shock, and his face became flooded with disbelief. “What? Abandoned? You were abandoned?”
“Like an unwanted shoe,” Liandrya replied matter-of-factly. “Did Anfarwol mean for that to happen as well?” she asked bitterly before canting her head to the side and regarding Golau carefully. The elder elf was genuinely distraught by the outcome of the night he had spent with the woman who bore her, and Liandrya could not help but wonder if perhaps Golau had been telling the truth after all.
“No,” Golau said with a shake of his head as he stood and began pacing. “No, no, no, that cannot be possible. Anfarwol would not have allowed such a thing to happen. She would not have gone through all the trouble of ensuring your creation if she simply meant for you to be cast aside and abandoned like garbage. I would never have agreed to her command if I had known.”
“What trouble?” Liandrya asked curiously. “What command? What are you talking about?”
Golau stopped in his pacing and leveled his gaze upon Liandrya. “Anfarwol visited me in a dream,” he explained. “And she told me that it was paramount that I father a child with a mortal woman.”
Staring blankly at Golau for a moment, Liandrya drained her goblet in one gulp before taking up a nearby decanter and filling her empty goblet with wine. She took a long sip before topping her drink off. “I beg your pardon?”
Sighing before finishing his own water, Golau strode over to where Liandrya stood and took the decanter from her before using it to fill his own goblet. He took a sip while setting the decanter back down. “As I said, Anfarwol came to me in a dream and instructed me to conceive a child with a mortal woman under the light of the next full moon. She impressed upon me the child’s importance for the survival of Cadarnle; and so, upon the intended night, I traveled to the clearing where the moon always shone the brightest and awaited the arrival of the woman who bore you.”
“You simply went?” Liandrya asked incredulously. “Without question?”
“It is not my place to question the will of our Goddess,” Golau replied simply before taking another sip of wine. “I do not remember how long I waited in that clearing, but when your birth mother stepped out from the trees with a song upon her lips, it was no longer Anfarwol’s command that motivated me.” He could not help the smile that ghosted over his lips at the memory. “There was a wild beauty to her, and her body enticed me in ways that no other women ever had.”
“Did you even know her name?” Liandrya asked.
Golau shook his head. “She never told me,” he answered softly as a soft shade of pink crept into his cheeks. “We did not spend a great deal of time talking,” he gently clarified while taking a fortifying sip of wine. “We spent the entire night making passionate love under the light of the full moon, and when I awoke the next morning, your mother was gone.”
“And then nine months later, she abandons me in the woods after giving birth to me,” Liandrya stated bitterly. “I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t find an apothecary to have the pregnancy terminated. The pain from being eaten alive by a wolf, or dying from exposure is infinitely better than being killed before I can even enter the world,” she added wryly with a glower.
“Oh, my dear,” Golau whispered before tentatively placing a hand upon Liandrya’s shoulder. “You were never far from my mind. After that night, I often wondered of the child I had fathered. Was it a son or a daughter? Where they happy and safe? Would I ever meet them? Would I even know them if I saw them?”
Liandrya looked up and was ready to offer a cheeky retort, but stopped when she saw the genuine pain in Golau’s ear-filled eyes. Instead, she sighed and lightly placed a hand upon the one the Lodestar had on her shoulder. “Well, now you have all your answers,” she answered softly.
“There is something I am not entirely clear on, though,” Golau uttered after giving Liandrya’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Such as?” Liandrya asked while lowering her hand.
“How did you survive?” Golau asked. “How did you come to be here?”
“I was found by an elven scout who would then become my father,” Liandrya replied.
Both of Golau’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Liandrya nodded. “The way my father tells the story, he was out on patrol one night, and he heard the sounds of a baby’s cries. Suspecting trouble, he followed the cries until he came upon me, wrapped in a blanket and cradled within the roots of an ancient oak tree. I was bathed in the light of the full moon, and I was clearly alone.” She could not help but smile a little. “According to my father, I couldn’t have been more than a few hours old, and the moment he picked me up to warm me within his cloak, I stopped crying. My father says that in that moment, he knew he had been meant to find me, and so he brought me home to his wife, and they raised me as their own.” She took a sip of wine. “They were unable to have children of their own, so to them, I was a gift from Anfarwol herself, and…why are you smiling?”
“Because the circumstances surrounding you finally make sense,” Golau answered with a growing smile. He placed his goblet down and took a few steps away from Liandrya before turning to face her once more. “Your birth mother and I were meant to conceive you, and your birth mother was meant to leave you where your intended parents would find you.”
“As romantic as that sounds, it seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through in order to assure that a barren pair get a child,” Liandrya remarked with a small shrug.
Still smiling, Golau gave a small shake of his head. “Because being adopted is not your final destiny and purpose for being,” he replied. “Oh, no, my dear, your destiny still awaits and has not yet been fulfilled.” His gaze shifted down to the satchel containing the mask. “At least not in its entirety.”
Liandrya followed Golau’s gaze. “You’re saying I was meant to find the mask? That I was placed in Morkessa’s path for the sole purpose of thwarting her plan?” she asked while raising her gaze to the Lodestar’s face.
Golau nodded. “Exactly so, my child,” he answered. “Everything that has been done in relation to you has been done in order to assure that you were where you needed to be and when, and that you were the person you needed to be when you arrived there.” His smile widened. “Everything happens for a reason, Liandrya. Anfarwol has a plan, and I believe you to be the catalyst.”
Liandrya blinked. “The person I needed to be? What do you mean by that?”
Golau glanced to Liandrya’s weapons. “I would wager that none of those are for show?”
“No, of course not,” Liandrya answered with a shake of her head. “From the moment I was old enough to hold a bow, both my parents taught me how to use it with both speed and accuracy. When I was a bit older, my father trained me in hand-to-hand combat. While my eyes and ears are not nearly as sharp as a full-blooded elf, I am nevertheless every bit as quick, agile, and light of foot as a full-blooded elf.”
“I would wager than you are even more so,” Golau remarked with a knowing grin. “For unlike full-blooded elves, you undoubtedly pushed yourself harder because you felt you had something to prove.”
“And a limited time in which to do it,” Liandrya replied sheepishly while averting her eyes. “Unlike my elven kin, I don’t have the benefit of centuries upon centuries in order to advance and improve my skills.” She sighed. “The sands of time started falling through the hourglass of my life the moment I entered this world.”
“And so, you are now a finely-honed weapon,” Golau remarked with a proud smile. “
Who better to be the one responsible for assuring the mask’s destruction?”
Liandrya was silent for a few moments as she mulled over everything she had just heard. On the one hand, everything Golau had said made perfect sense. But, on the other hand, there was one glaring flaw in the Lodestar’s logic. “There’s only one problem.”
“And what would that be?” Golau asked while canting his head to the side.
“The fact that I don’t think I’m as strong as you think I am,” Liandrya replied before sighing. “Whenever the box is opened, I keep hearing a voice telling me to put on the mask. Up until today, it was always a faint whisper that I could block out if I focused hard enough, but today it was much louder and impossible to ignore. Lord Raeloun had to keep hold of me in order to keep me from running to you and putting on the mask.” She hung her head in shame. “Clearly, Tywyll is seeking to corrupt me, and as evidenced by what happened today, I’m just as corruptible as anyone else. That hardly makes me a great hero, doesn’t it?”
“Why are you so certain it was Tywyll who was telling you to don the mask?” Golau asked simply after having listened to everything Liandrya had just told him.
“Who else could it be?” Liandrya asked. “Who else would benefit from my putting on the mask?”
“Think about it, my dear,” Golau answered with a smile. “Today, the day in which you found yourself in the heart of Anfarwol’s temple, the voice that had once been a mere whisper in your mind now becomes clearer and stronger.”
“You think it was Anfarwol?” Liandrya asked.
“I do,” Golau answered with a nod. “You see, you are thrice-blessed, Liandrya. Fathered by Anfarwol’s Lodestar under the light of the full moon, and then born under the light of the full moon, you have been truly touched by our Goddess.”
Liandrya fell silent. “So, I’m meant to die,” she uttered.
“Pardon?” Golau asked.
Liandrya sighed. “Lord Raeloun told me about the ancient passage in which it is said that a truly good and pure of heart person can destroy the simply mask by wearing it.” She frowned. “He also said, that there is no way of knowing if that person would survive the process.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I was created solely for the purpose of being a sacrificial lamb.”
“There is no definitive way of knowing if the person will live or die,” Golau answered with a shake of his head. “That is correct, but nowhere is it written that death is the absolute outcome,” he soothed.
“An awfully big gamble based entirely on speculation,” Liandrya grumbled before looking to the Lodestar. “Can you honestly tell me that my donning the mask won’t result in my making the ultimate sacrifice?”
Golau sighed softly and shook his head. “In regards to this particular matter, I can say no such thing with certainty. All I can tell you is what I believe.”
“And what would that be?” Liandrya asked.
“That Anfarwol would not go through all the careful planning involved in your creation if she only meant for you to be served up to slaughter,” Golau answered before offering Liandrya a smile. “Anfarwol is light. Anfarwol is love. She would not create you so unabashedly in the light and then surround you with love only to have you destroyed by the darkness and hatred against which she so vehemently fought. I feel it in my soul.”
“But you have no real proof,” Liandrya said softly as she looked back on her entire life. Her heart was filled with sorrow at the thought of it all simply being a means to an end. “Do you?”
Golau gazed at Liandrya silently for a few moments before sighing and giving a small shake of his head. “No, I do not. I have only what I feel in my heart.”
“Yes, well, that’s hardly reassuring,” Liandrya replied before slowly exhaling. “Don’t worry, Golau, I won’t condemn Cadarnle to eternal darkness simply because I am afraid to die,” she said in a calm, flat voice. “If I find myself backed into a corner with no way out, I will do what I was apparently born to do, and put on the mask.”
If for no other reason than to ensure that Dorlyn and Vylkur lived.
As Golau gazed at his daughter who was now standing before him so stoically, he felt his life-affirming pride giving way to sorrow. What if, after all was said and done, he was actually wrong? After finally meeting with his child after twenty-seven years of absence, he was now facing the very real possibility of losing her forever. While they had never met before today, Golau had been entertaining the hope that perhaps Liandrya would visit him on occasion now that a connection had been made; but, he could feel that hope slipping through his fingers now, and his heart ached with the thought of losing his daughter before he could truly know her.
“It isn’t fair,” Golau whispered.
“Life isn’t fair,” Liandrya replied softly before hanging her head. “It’s messy and complicated, but it’s never fair.” Her breath hitched in her throat at the thought of those she would be leaving behind. Dorlyn and Vylkur would be utterly devastated, as would her mother and father when they found out.
If they found out.
Liandrya did not visit them nearly as often as she wanted, but that did not mean she loved them any less. Her life as a treasure hunter and mercenary kept her away a great deal, as did the life she was building with Dorlyn and Vylkur. She had worked so hard to keep her two families separate in order to avoid friction and heartache, that she now risked her parents never knowing what became of her. They would always be left wondering and worrying without any form of closure.
Not if Liandrya could help it!
“Golau, I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything, my child,” the Lodestar replied.
“If your theory ends up wrong in the end, and I die, I have no doubt that you will somehow know,” Liandrya began. “I humbly ask that you please get word to my mother and father in the Dawelaf Realm and tell them what happened to me.” Liandrya breathed a shaky sigh. “I know that they worry about me, and I don’t visit them as often as I should, but if I die, then they should know I won’t be coming back,” she said softly. “Tell them as much as you wish, just please tell them what happened to me, so they can have a chance to mourn and find peace before moving on with their lives.” She sniffled even as she stubbornly kept her tears at bay. “After everything they’ve done for me, and all the love they have given me, they deserve the benefit of closure.”
Seeing his only child putting on a brave face even with her possible death looming over her broke Golau’s heart, and before Liandrya could stop him, the Lodestar had closed the distance between the two of them and drew her into a gentle embrace. “I will visit them and deliver the news myself. I swear it on the blood we share,” he uttered fervently while leaning down and kissing the top of Liandrya’s head. His arms tightened around her when she overcame her initial shock and embraced him in return. But, it was not until he heard the first muffled sob that Golau lifted Liandrya into his arms and carried her back to the two chairs. Sitting in one, he settled Liandrya upon his lap and simply cradled her close while weeping silent tears into her hair.
They said nothing for quite a while. Golau knew that no words could possibly comfort either of them, and Liandrya knew that it would be pointless to fill the silence with idle chatter.
“I want you to promise me something, Liandrya,” Golau said at last when he could remain silent no longer.
“What?” Liandrya asked.
“Please promise me that when the time comes for you to…” He closed his eyes and rallied himself before opening them once more. “Promise me that you will not be alone. No one should be alone at a time like that,” he added before tenderly kissing the top of Liandrya’s head.
Her head resting against Golau’s shoulder, Liandrya smiled sadly as she gazed blankly at the wall opposite her. “I won’t be alone,” she whispered. “I promise.” Raising her head, Liandrya softly kissed Golau’s cheek before slowly climbing off his lap. “I should go,” she whispered while wiping away her tears even
as she fixed a smile to her lips.
“I know,” Golau answered sadly with a small nod as he rose to his feet.
“For what it’s worth, I am glad to have known you,” Liandrya said softly. “Even though our time was short.”
“As am I,” Golau whispered. “You are everything I dreamed you would be, Liandrya, and I will treasure your memory for eternity.
Liandrya slowly exhaled. “Farewell, father of my blood.”
“Farewell, Liandrya,” Golau murmured mournfully. “My one and only child.”
14
Now dressed in fresh, clean clothing, Liandrya stepped out into the light of day. Her quiver was filled with new arrows, and she had a fresh arsenal of poisons and the like inside of another small satchel that was draped across her other shoulder. She was ready for the next leg of her journey, physically and mentally in any case. Armed to the teeth, and resigned to the possibility of her demise, Liandrya was ready for whatever Anfarwol deemed fit to throw at her.