A Distant Tomorrow

“Vartan,” she whispered to the night. “Why did it have to end this way?” But there was no answer. Lara wondered if there would ever be. She sighed, resigned. She should know better than anyone, she thought, that the lines between the worlds were firm once a soul had crossed into the next life. Vartan might look down on them from the realm of the Celestial Actuary, but Lara would never again hear his voice.

Chapter 2

IT WAS THE LONGEST DAY of the year in the Outlands when Vartan of the Fiacre was sent off to the kingdom of the Celestial Actuary. Not a cloud spoiled the clear blue sky. The sun shone down the day long as Vartan was feted, feasted and toasted. There were almost as many people as at the yearly Gathering in the autumn, and Lara realized that many members of the other clan families had somehow managed to come to pay homage to her husband. The day long she moved among them with her son, Dillon, speaking to those she knew, accepting condolences from strangers who approached her with tales of Vartan’s kindness to them once, seeing to everyone’s comfort. That they had food, that they had drink, that they had shelter from the hot summer sun.

Many spoke of the grave maturity of Vartan and Lara’s young son, Dillon, especially when he had walked from the hall leading those bearing his father’s body to the funeral pyre. He had accompanied his mother the day long, his demeanor almost protective of her. She spoke to him in low, quiet tones, pointing out certain members of the various clans; introducing him to the men who might someday be of help to him. Dillon gave his hand to these men, and looked directly at them with Vartan’s eyes. Many were startled by the adult behavior of such a young boy. But Dillon, son of Vartan, knew on the day of his father’s departure ceremony that he would never again be a child.

A delegation of Shadow Princes led by Kaliq, Lara’s former lover and mentor, had arrived in early afternoon. Lara had come close to weeping when she saw them. She let Kaliq enfold her in his tender embrace, and heard the words of comfort he silently offered her without speaking. The words were for no one else but her. Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, came with her consort, Thanos, and their son, Lara’s half brother Cirilo. Lara had never seen this sibling before, and she was enchanted by him. He was very faerie, but more her mother than Thanos. He greeted his much older sister with a smile and a kiss that was like being brushed by butterfly wings.

Lara recalled at that moment that she had two half brothers. She wondered how Mikhail was doing. It had been seven years since she had seen him. He would be almost eight years old now, but he would look nothing like the golden-haired Cirilo.

As the sun began to sink toward the horizon the final preparations were quickly executed. The Outlanders gathered about the funeral pyre in an almost completed circle; the circle broken only to leave clear a view of the setting sun. The sky was a magnificent panorama of colors. Blue, pink, mauve, purple, red, orange, pale green and gold played over the faces of the assembled mourners. Lara and Dillon, escorted by Liam and Rendor, stood before the pyre. Bera, her face haggard with her grief, handed widow and orphan their lit torches. All was absolutely still, and not a breeze stirred. As the sun began to make its final descent below the horizon Lara and her son lit the funeral pyre. As the flames sprang up to engulf Vartan’s body the sun disappeared. But in the skies above a comet streaked over the Outlands, trailing a shower of silvery stars. A gasp of wonder arose from the mourners.

Lara caught Kaliq’s gaze. Thank you, she told him silently. His magic had but added to the legend that had already begun to grow surrounding Vartan of the Fiacre, who had found his half-faerie wife wandering on the plains one day, and brought her home where she became a blessing to all Outlanders. The tears began to slip down her beautiful face as the flames leaped higher, the fire crackling, hissing and roaring with its growing power. Dillon stood by her side, his small hand in hers. They did not leave the pyre until it finally collapsed into a pile of glowing coals and gray ash. When the fire was gone entirely a wind sprang up, scattering the ashes across the plains of the Outlands until nothing was left but a blackened spot where the pyre had once stood. And Lara knew she had her mother to thank for this final act of mercy. Liam and Rendor, who had remained by her side now escorted her back into the hall, Liam picking up the exhausted Dillon, carrying him. The boy was asleep by the time they entered the house.

Thanos and Cirilo came to bid Lara farewell, but Ilona would remain a while longer with her daughter. The Shadow Princes had gone, but for Kaliq. The rest of the clan lords had each joined their own people. Bera was nowhere to be seen. Food had been set upon the high board, and Lara, dismissing the servants, now invited her remaining guests to table. There were roasted meats and poultry, summer vegetables, bread, butter, cheese and fresh fruit. And there was wine and ale aplenty. They ate in silence, but finally, when there was nothing left to eat, the queries began.

“When do you mean to leave Camdene?” Ilona asked her daughter.

“Before autumn,” Lara responded. “I will not leave my children so quickly since they have just lost their father. Anoush will not understand, but I must prepare Dillon more. He understands, but he does not really understand. He must before I go.”

“Where will you go?” Kaliq wanted to know.

“To the sea,” she said.

He smiled, and caught Ilona’s eye. “It is time now.”

Lara could not help but chuckle softly. “Do not act so mysterious with me, Kaliq. You surely remember how I dislike it.”

“You have lived too long among ordinary mortals, Lara,” he told her gravely. “No offense, my lords,” he nodded to Rendor and Liam.

“I am an ordinary mortal,” Lara told him.

“Your mortal half is hardly ordinary,” he said, “and you have a magical half as well in the faerie blood that runs in your veins. You did not just decide that you would depart the Outlands for the coast. And you knew that to remain here was not your fate. Your destiny is once again calling to you, and you will fulfill that destiny. Even if Vartan had not died you would have followed the voice within. You have no other choice.”

“And when I reach the coast, what am I supposed to do?” she demanded.

“You will know what to do when the time is right to do it,” he responded.

Lara threw a grape at him. “Kaliq, you grown more annoying with each word you utter.” And then she laughed. “But the last time you pushed me out the door to follow my fate I found Vartan. I wonder what is in store for me this time?”

“Wherever you go,” Ilona said, “you are always protected, and your magic will aid you, my daughter. You must remember that although there may be times when your fears will overcome you, push them back, and remember the words I speak to you now. You are protected, Lara.”

“I would return your horse to you,” Lara suddenly said to Kaliq. “Dasras cannot come where I must eventually go.”

“No,” Kaliq replied. “He cannot go with you, but leave him among the Fiacre in your son’s care, Lara.” Then he turned his gaze onto Liam. “Roan will seek to gain the beast from you, my lord. Do not let him have Dasras, no matter how tempted you may be by the gold or other inducements he may offer you. I will know if you betray me in this matter, Liam of the Fiacre, and my judgment will be swift and harsh. Do you understand me, my lord?”

“The horse will remain among the Fiacre, and we will protect him from any who would seek to gain him,” Liam promised, not in the least offended by the Shadow Prince’s threat. The prince was a magical being and thus to be respected.

Kaliq turned back to Lara. “Keep Andraste and Verica with you always,” he told her. “Verica will advise you, and Andraste is your protection. Never be parted from them, but if you are, just call to them when you need them, and they will come to you. They are both made so that no one else can either use them, or keep them from you.”

“Now you are beginning to intrigue me,” Lara answered him. “This will not simply be a visit to the Coastal Kings, will it, Kaliq?”

He smiled his beautiful smile at her, but said nothing.

Lara laughed. “My destiny must unfold in a certain manner,” she said. Then she grew serious. “Tell us, Kaliq, what is happening in the City. I know you have your representatives there in the council.”

“Indeed,” Kaliq replied. “In the five years since the Winter War,” he began, “Gaius Prospero has worked diligently to regain his popularity among the people, and his influence among the guilds, and magnates. It has cost him a great deal of gold, I would imagine. But then, he stole a great deal from the Outlands. The City is growing, and expanding. For lack of conflict the Mercenaries and the Crusader Knights sit idly in their respective quarters. The wealthy continue to live comfortably, the wiser among them discreetly, while the foolish waste their considerable resources in vulgar and conspicuous consumption and the poor barely subsist.

“Gaius Prospero has managed to avoid an all-out famine so far. He feeds the people with grain from his own granaries and diverts them with lavish entertainments. He does what he must to keep order, and to further his own ambitions.”

“I have heard that the Midlands is now expanding into the territory of the Forest Lords,” Lara said.

“Aye, ’tis true,” Ilona answered her daughter. “It was subtle at first. A few trees here and a few there as the Midlands folk sought to cultivate new fields to replace the worn and tired soil of their lands. Without these new fields they cannot feed the City. If this happens, anarchy is bound to erupt. People will tolerate much, but starvation is a cruel spur to those already discontented.”

“They have also expanded into the edges of our desert realm where the soil is still able to sustain some small growth,” Kaliq told his listeners. “But it is difficult for them, for they must irrigate the land there, and that means water from the Forest Lords.”

“And they have cooperated?” Lara was surprised.

“Gaius Prospero seems to have some hold over them that he did not previously have,” Ilona said.

“He has learned, then, of my grandmother’s curse upon the Forest Lords,” Lara reasoned. “That has to be it, for Enda would not give either an inch of forest soil or his water unless he felt that the illusion the Forest Lords built up was threatened. To reveal to Hetar that their bloodlines are no longer pure is tantamount to their destruction. What of the Forest Faeries, Mother? Are you not also threatened by this incursion into the forest?”

“We live in the deepest part of the wood, Lara,” her mother said. “And we live on another plane of existence from the mortals of Hetar. You could walk through our palaces and never know you were there, for you would not see them. Well, perhaps you might, but then you are faerie. But if one day the forest that sustains us is taken away we, like so many others in the magic realms, will be refugees. Pray the Celestial Actuary it never comes to that,” Ilona said.

“The continuance of the status quo within Hetar depends on the people being content,” Kaliq said. “This means they must be fed, and kept busy. Without work there is no coin to purchase even the cheapest goods. This affects not just the poor but the rich as well, for their wealth comes from the goods and services they make, manage and provide. And there are more without than with,” Kaliq noted. “Unless something is done they will rise up against their masters. The Master of the Merchants, Gaius Prospero, lobbies hard to be made emperor. He says that times are changing, and Hetar must change with the times. That an emperor will renew Hetar, and that he can solve its problems, but only if he is emperor, and fully in charge. Hetar must expand its borders to avoid chaos, and while the City has eaten into the borders of two of its own provinces, the most logical place for Hetar to come is into the Outlands with its vast tracts of land.”

“We will fight them!” Rendor declared.

“They are many, and your clan families few,” Kaliq said pragmatically. “They will overcome you with the might of their Mercenary Guild and Crusader Knights. They will enslave your peoples, and take all you possess for themselves. Those of us who are of the magical realm cannot allow that to happen. A great war would bring more problems than it would solve, for all of us, both magic and mortal. We helped you in the Winter War, and now we will help you before another war begins. But we cannot protect you forever,” he said quietly. “Lara came to you for a purpose. To alert you to the danger. To show you that the magic world was not to be feared so we might help you when this time came,” Kaliq continued. “But it is not enough that we do so. Lara must now leave you so that she may follow the destiny that will one day bring peace to all of Hetar.”

“But how can that happen,” Rendor asked, “if Hetar has too many people, and not enough lands, and we have lands but too few people? If we were willing to share some of our lands with Hetar they would probably accept, and then seek to take more and more until they had it all. They do not respect us, my lord prince. They call us barbarians although they surely know better, especially after the Winter War. They seek to wipe all vestiges of our clan families from history, leaving only themselves.”

Kaliq smiled. “You are wise to understand that, Rendor of the Felan, head of the Outlands High Council.”

“Then how can you help us?” Rendor persisted.

“We will place magical barriers about the Outlands so that none with wicked intentions may pass through those gates and into your lands.”

Rendor nodded. “And what are we to do then?”

“You will live your lives as you always have, in peace, going about your daily business,” Kaliq said.

“And Lara? Where will she go, and will she come back to us?” Rendor asked.

“Do not ask him questions he cannot or will not answer,” Lara chuckled. “He will speak to you in riddles as he does to me when I inquire of him that which he does not wish to impart. Such answers will only hurt your head as they do mine. I am content to go, Rendor, knowing that my beloved Outlands will be safe in my absence. I will not leave you forever. I will be back. After all, my children are Outlanders.”

“I think we have concluded our business here,” Kaliq said to those about the board. “Ilona, have you anything you wish to say before we take our leave of Lara and her friends?”

“Rendor, because you now stand in Vartan’s place, and you, Liam, because you will care for my grandchildren, I give you permission to call my name should you need me. This is my gift to you, and a privilege allowed few, especially mortals.”

The two Outlander lords bowed low to the faerie queen and thanked her for her generosity.

Ilona then embraced her daughter. “I will see you before you leave Camdene, for I intend that my grandchildren know me well before you go that I may help to comfort them when you are gone. Is your Noss competent to care for Dillon and Anoush? I seem to recall she was a girl afraid of her own shadow.”

Lara smiled, and stroked her mother’s delicate cheek. “She is grown now, the parent of one son, and another soon to come. Her marriage has given her confidence, Mother. My son and daughter will be safe with her, and loved, too. Having to leave them is what I feared when I gave Vartan children, but I always thought their father would be here with them.” She sighed. “But they will have you, Bera, Liam, Noss and a whole clan of Fiacre who will watch over them, for they are Vartan’s offspring.”

“Beware Bera,” Ilona advised.

“Why?” Lara wanted to know. “She has always been good to me, and she adores Dillon and Anoush.”

“The death of her sons, the manner in which each died, remains with her, and always will. She cannot forgive Adon for his murder of Vartan, Lara. But neither can she forget that you slew Adon. She will appear to recover eventually, but she will never quite be the same again. What has happened to her has brought a madness into her soul. It lies beneath the surface of her sanity. She will raise Cam to be every bit as heroic as Vartan, but there is evil in that child’s blood that cannot be extinguished. One day he will have to be slain, too, for the sake of the Fiacre. It would have been better if he had never been born,” Ilona declared vehemently.

“Then teach my children to be wary of him,” Lara said.

Ilona nodded. “I must go. I will be back before you leave here.”

The two women embraced, and the men with them marveled that they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, such was the faerie blood. There was a small thunderclap, and Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries, with a wave of her hand disappeared into her cloud of purple haze.

Lara now turned to Kaliq and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, my dear friend, for coming on this day of days. Will I see you again?”

“If it pleases you,” he told her.

“Do you still love me, Kaliq?” she asked him, curious.

“I will always love you, Lara, daughter of Swiftsword,” he told her. And then he was gone, seeming to evaporate into the very shadows that had suddenly arisen to surround him.

Lara was now left with but two companions. She turned to them saying, “I am tired, and will find my bed. Rendor, pray do not leave Camdene until we have spoken in private again.” Then she turned away from them and was gone from the hall.

Rendor and Liam now found seats by the hall fire that they might speak privily. A servant appeared, bringing them cups of wine, and was then gone again.

“I am almost frightened by what has transpired here this night,” Liam said. “It would appear great changes are coming to all of us. What part we are to play in those changes I cannot tell.” He sighed. “I have never wanted to lead the Fiacre, I should have been content being Vartan’s cousin and friend, Noss’s husband, and father to my children.”

“The elders would not have chosen you had they not felt you were the right man,” Rendor said. “Remember that once before they asked you.”

“They asked because my father had been lord of this family after Vartan’s father died,” Liam answered him. “It was a matter of pure courtesy. They knew Vartan was the man who should lead us, and so did I.”

“And yet they have chosen you now,” Rendor noted. “I think, Liam, that you underestimate yourself and your abilities. As for the great changes to come, and what should be done, I believe we should follow the Shadow Prince’s advice. We will live as we have always lived.”

“Do you think that magic can really protect us from Hetar’s greed?” Liam said.

“I do,” Rendor replied. “Prince Kaliq would not have said it otherwise.” Of course, Kaliq had also said magic could not protect them forever. But perhaps it would serve long enough for Lara to find the destiny that would save them all from disaster. He emptied his cup. “It has been a long day, my friend,” he said to Liam. “I think I shall find my bed now.”

Liam stood up. “I had best be getting home,” he responded. “Noss is near her time, and she likes me with her.”

In her bedchamber behind the hall Lara lay sleepless. Vartan was gone. Every vestige of him was gone, burned in the fire that freed his soul from his body. He would be remembered in the oral history of the Outlands by the Devyn bards who were already singing of him. Once his generation had departed this world there would be few remaining who would remember the man, but they would know the legend of Vartan, Lord of the Fiacre. She wept silently again in the darkness of the night for the man who had been her mate. He had been a good man, a great leader. He had made a safe haven for her among the Fiacre. She was angry that fate dictated his demise, and yet had he lived, he would have resisted her going. And had he lived, would she even have heeded the calling of the voice within her? Ilona might claim that her daughter was not responsible for Vartan’s death, but Lara was not at all certain of that. She was beginning to realize that this destiny she had put from her mind these last five years was bigger than even she could imagine. And she was still not certain of what exactly it was. She turned onto her side, punching at her pillows, and tried to sleep.

She had the summer ahead to consider, long days of warm sun and gentle breezes to spend with her children. Days in which she would prepare Dillon for life without either of his parents. She most regretted that her daughter was so young. Anoush would not really remember either her mother or her father, and that was a tragedy. But Dillon could tell his little sister of their parents as long as he could remember them. Vartan’s face was already receding from her. Would her son’s memory be any better? And what of Cam, Adon’s son? They had never been friends to begin with, but Bera would surely try to foster a relationship between the cousins. Lara was not certain what to do about that. It seemed sad to deny Cam his place among them, but had not her own mother warned that Cam would be a troublesome child, and a dangerous man?

AT SUNRISE, Lara awoke surprised, for she had not remembered falling asleep the night before. Stretching she considered the day ahead. Rendor would want to leave today, and she must speak with him before he did. And she, Noss and Liam must decide the time for the new Lord of the Fiacre to move into the lord’s house. It should be soon, for until Liam had made the house his there would be those who would always consider it Vartan’s house—such was the nature of the Fiacre. She sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. First she wanted a bath. Slipping a house robe over her nakedness she slipped through a small door that led outside to a pergola thick with flowering vines that shaded the path to the bathhouse.

In the hall the servants were already at their daily tasks. With the old lord buried and gone, they returned to their comfortable routine. As they worked they gossiped with one another for they had heard that the new lord would be moving into the house shortly. Was it really true? When? But no one knew, and then Rendor, the lord of the Felan, and new high council leader was coming to the high board, and needed to be fed. Lara joined him shortly afterwards, fresh from her ablutions.

“You look tired,” Rendor noted as she sat down next to him.

“I am,” Lara admitted. “I don’t think I have slept well since Vartan’s death.”

“But now you have the summer ahead with your children,” he remarked.

“I will come to you before the Gathering,” Lara told him. “Will you escort me to King Archeron’s palace?”

“Of course,” he said, “but what of the Fiacre?”

“When the day comes I will leave quietly. It is always best to leave quietly,” Lara said softly. “I will use my magic to come to you. But I would ride to King Archeron’s palace as we once did when Vartan first met him.”

“You have entrusted me with a great responsibility, Lara,” he said changing the subject.

“You were the perfect choice, Rendor. You have dignity and you have presence, which will be crucial in dealing with Hetar. First impressions are important with them. If you show them a strong leader they will respect you if for no other reason than the way you appear to them. But you are also wise, and will not be easily fooled by them. If they manage to get through the magic barriers that the Shadow Princes erect around the Outlands, be wary, and put off dealing with them as long as you can. Do not allow them to press you into any quick decisions, my friend. Hetarians are crafty folk,” she concluded with a small smile. “Do not allow their charm and exquisite manners to lull you in a false sense of security. They are not to be trusted.”

“If the magic barrier is strong, will they be able to get through?” Rendor wondered.

“The princes said those with no evil intent will pass between the two lands easily. Those who wish to treat with you first will be harmless. And it is better that Hetar not know of the magic that will protect the Outlands from them—at least not right away,” she chuckled. “What the princes have done is to protect the Outlands from a military attack, Rendor. But there are different kinds of invasion. You must beware of a more subtle incursion by Hetar.”