Godmaker (The World of Lasniniar, Book 6) – Jacquelyn Smith

Godmaker (The World of Lasniniar, Book 6)

Series: The World of Lasniniar

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 Jacquelyn Smith.

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This title is also available as part of the Godmaker Lasniniar Collection.

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.

[Copyright © Jacquelyn Smith, 2021]