A Distant Tomorrow

“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.”

“You have given me much to consider,” Rendor said.

“You will have to tell each clan lord before they leave today of the prince’s gift to the Outlands so they will not be afraid. And so that Roan may not frighten them into a war that need not be fought at all,” Lara advised.

Rendor chuckled. “Roan would be most distressed to learn how well you know him.”

“Then perhaps it is better we not tell him,” Lara replied with a small smile.

“If you had not this destiny of yours to follow I think you would have made the Fiacre an excellent clan leader, Lara,” Rendor told her. “You are truly an amazing woman, and it is the Fiacre’s loss that you must leave them.”

“I have given the Fiacre my counsel for five years now, and I have given them Vartan’s son and daughter. I cannot imagine being here without Vartan. But one day I will return, for this is where I mean to live out my days, Rendor. Keep the Outlands safe for me.”

“I will try,” he responded, and then he arose. “I must go now. The journey home will not be nearly as easy as it was coming here.” He grinned at her.

“I suppose I could transport you all back to your lands,” Lara said thoughtfully.

He laughed. “You would frighten those of my clan who came to pay Vartan homage, and are not used to your magic. No. We will ride home.” He took her hand in his, and putting it first to his heart, then kissed it, bowing to her as he did so. “Farewell, Lara. Rahil and I will look forward to your coming in early autumn.”

“I will send word before I come,” she promised him as she walked outside to see him off. And then she went to each of the clan lords, bidding them and their clan people farewell, and thanking them for coming to honor Vartan’s life and last journey. Bowing to each group she said the same words. “I appreciate the homage you offered my husband as he departed for the realm of the Celestial Actuary.” She stood as each group departed. Finally, Camdene was as it should be on a midsummer morning. The streets were quiet. The men in the fields tended to the crops and the clan’s herds of cattle. The women went about the business of childcare, housework and gardening. Lara returned to the hall to find Bera awaiting her.

“We must talk,” her mother-in-law said calmly. But the calm surrounding Bera was so fragile that Lara could almost see it.

“Come, and sit,” Lara invited the older woman. “Have you eaten?” She brought Bera to the high board, and signaled to a servant to bring food.

“Everything tastes like sawdust now,” Bera remarked.

“I know,” Lara agreed as she poured a goblet of wine for Bera.

Bera drank slowly, and then she set the goblet down. “What is to happen now, Lara?” she asked the young woman in a plaintive tone. “You were Vartan’s wife. These decisions are yours to make now.”

“I think it best that Liam have this hall that has been for so many years the center of Camdene. I know his father did not rule from here, but both Vartan and his father did,” Lara began. “Now that our people must deal more with Hetar it is important that the clan lord have a fine dwelling. And frankly, Liam and Noss will need a larger house with four children to raise.”

“Four?” Bera looked confused. “I thought there was but one, and another to come soon. Has my poor mind gone entirely?”

“Liam and Noss will be raising Dillon and Anoush for me,” Lara said. “I cannot have them living in the same house as Adon’s son, Bera. I am sorry. That is why my children have not been here these past few days, but have remained with Noss. You will be moved to Liam’s house with Cam. You will continue to be respected as Vartan’s mother. You will lack for nothing. But my children will eschew Cam.”

“But they are cousins,” Bera said.

“Cam is Adon’s son. Adon killed my children’s father,” Lara replied.

“And you killed both Adon and Elin,” Bera responded. “You slew Cam’s parents without mercy.” She looked directly into Lara’s green eyes.

“Aye, I did, and I have not a single regret,” Lara answered, returning the look even as she remembered her mother’s words regarding Bera. “Cam is his parents’ child. Their tainted blood runs in his veins. He will never be free of their curse.”

“You have a faerie’s cold heart,” Bera said cruelly.

Lara smiled softly, and nodded. “I do,” she agreed, “but it is for my children. If I did not, I should not be able to do what I must do. Do not trifle with me in this matter, Bera. I will not allow your sentimental heart to endanger Vartan’s son and daughter. If it were up to me I should take Adon’s spawn far out on the plain and leave him there to die. Indeed, it might be better for all concerned if I did. But against my better judgment I will give him to you to raise. Just keep him away from my children.” Then Lara left her mother-in-law at the high board while she went to find Noss and Liam to discuss the moving arrangements.

Several days later the transfer of households was completed. Despite Noss’s protest, Lara had moved from the lord’s bedchamber into a bedspace in the little hall that had once been Bera’s personal domain. She found that she slept far better in the enclosed place than she had in the large bed she had once shared with Vartan. And her children were close by in the nursery chamber. But Bera had hardly spoken to her after their last conversation, and she had not seen Cam at all.

The summer days seemed longer than she had ever remembered them being. She sloughed off the responsibilities of the lord’s wife like a snake shedding its skin. Noss was now the lady of the Fiacre, and while Lara was happy to advise her, she was glad to see Noss pick up the duties and obligations that belonged to her high office. She spent much of her day with her two children. Anoush was toddling, and seemed fearless. Dillon kept to Lara’s side like a small burr, full of questions and mischief. He made her laugh as no one else ever did.

One afternoon they sat beneath a tree in the grass. Anoush had fallen asleep in Lara’s lap, and Dillon, leaning against his mother, demanded a story from her. It was time, Lara realized, to tell him her story. She began.

“Once a beautiful faerie girl ensorcelled a handsome Midlands farmer lad. She took him away to her bower in the forest where they made love for days on end. And in time she birthed a beautiful daughter whom she loved dearly. But when the baby was just a few months old the beautiful faerie girl had to leave her child, and her lover. She sent them back out into their own world.”

“Why?” Dillon wanted to know.

“Because the beautiful faerie girl had certain obligations to her own mother, and family,” Lara explained. “The lad she loved could not live in her world, nor could she have lived in his. Sometimes, my son, you must place your family duties above all else, and so it was with the beautiful faerie woman.” She caressed his dark hair gently.

“What happened to the farmer’s lad, and their child?” Dillon asked.

“He took his daughter and returned to his parents’ house. But, alas, his father had died in the time he had been away, and his older brother was now the head of their family. The brother did not want the child in his house. He said her faerie blood would bring bad luck on them all.”

“That’s silly,” Dillon said scornfully. “Everyone knows that faeries bring good fortune, Mama. I think this farmer was a fool.”

Lara grinned. “I think so, too,” she said.

“So what happened next?”

“Dorjan, the foolish farmer, said his brother must go, and take his child with him. But Ida, his mother, protested, and said if Dorjan sent his brother and the child from their house she would go with them. Dorjan would not relent, and so Ida, her younger son and the infant went to the City. There the son became a famous mercenary, and Ida raised her granddaughter. But when the child was ten years of age the grandmother died.

“The girl kept house for her father until he found a fine wife, Susanna, the daughter of a Midlands farmer. They wed, and Susanna gave her husband a son whom they called Mikhail.

“But the Mercenary was sad, for he wished to better his position in life. The only way he could do that was by becoming a Crusader Knight. He very much wanted to enter the tournament that was held once every three years to choose new knights, but he had not the means. And then he realized he had one valuable possession—his beautiful half-faerie daughter. If he sold her to Gaius Prospero, the Master of the Merchants, he would have everything he needed for the tournament. A fine warhorse, new weapons and the best armor. His battle skills, he knew, would gain him the place he sought. And when he became a Crusader Knight his wife and son would be moved to the beautiful Garden District into a beautiful house with slaves of their own. His son would receive the finest education. But only if he sold his daughter into slavery. There was no other way for him, and besides, he had not even enough coin to give his daughter a dower portion. And so he sold his eldest child, but she was happy to be the means by which her father might advance himself. And she was very proud when he won his place among the Crusader Knights.”

“What happened to her then?” Dillon asked eagerly.

“She was sold again, this time to the Forest Lords. But the Forest Lords were cruel masters, and so with the aid of a small giant named Og, she escaped the forest. She and Og traveled to the desert of the Shadow Princes, and there she learned how to love properly, and how to fight well, for she had inherited her father’s warrior skills. And after a time the Shadow Princes sent her away into the Outlands where she met a handsome clan lord. She wed him, and they had two fine children.”

“Mama!” Dillon exclaimed. “This is your story, isn’t it?”

Lara laughed, and ruffled his dark hair. “You are such a clever boy, my son,” she told him. “Yes, this is my story.”

“Tell me more,” he begged her.

“I will, but another day,” she promised him. “You must remember all I tell you, Dillon, for when I am gone you will have to tell Anoush so she will know who her mother was, and is.”

And in the days that followed she filled in what she had not told him in that first telling. Bit by bit, piece by piece, Lara fleshed out her story. First she gave him his grandfather’s name. John Swiftsword. Next he learned that in order to become a Crusader Knight a man must look as if he were worthy. As young as he was, Dillon scorned such an attitude for his father had always said a man’s worth showed in what he accomplished and did. Not how he looked. Hetar, he declared, was an odd place.

Lara told her son of her own childhood. How her grandmother had taught her all her own skills of housewifery, medicine, the art of bargaining and how to tell a good fabric from a bad one. And how she had had no friends among children her own age, for they feared her faerie blood. Yet she could not recall ever having seen her mother. And later she learned that her father and grandmother had forbidden the beautiful faerie woman who had birthed her to see her. But her mother had put the crystal Lara always wore about her neck with its guardian spirit, Ethne, within to keep her safe.

Lara explained how Gaius Prospero had let her remain at home until her father won his place. And at the urging of her elderly neighbor Lara had on her last night of freedom asked her father to tell her the story of his involvement with the beautiful faerie, Ilona, and how she had come to be born.

The Master of the Merchants had taken charge of his new slave the morning after her father’s victory and his acceptance into the Crusader Knights. But the beautiful slave he thought to profit from was forbidden from being sold into one of the City’s Pleasure Houses by the Head Mistress of the Pleasure Mistresses’ Guild.

“Why?” Dillon asked his mother. “Did they not think you beautiful enough?”

“I was thought too beautiful,” Lara explained to him. “After I had been displayed for sale to a very elite audience of Pleasure House owners, quarrels broke out over who should purchase me. The Head Mistress, in order to keep the peace, forbade Gaius Prospero to sell me in the City. So I was sent off with a Taubyl Trader to be sold into the Coastal Kingdom.”

As the days passed, and Lara told her son more of the story, the boy learned how she had ended up being purchased by the Head Forester and his brother. And Lara told him of how Og had explained the secret of the Forest Lords to her. That Maeve, the old queen of the Forest Faeries, had cursed them with great cause. That Lara, because of her faerie blood, would not birth any child unless she loved the man involved with all her heart. And since she did not love a Forest Lord, Lara and Og had devised an escape plan.

“Then you loved my father with all your heart,” Dillon noted.

“I did,” Lara answered her young son. She was amazed by his understanding of her story for he was scarcely out of babyhood. But she could see in his eyes that he did, and as the days went by she added more detail to her tale. She told him how she and Og had fled the forest, and arrived in the land of the Shadow Princes. How Prince Kaliq had taken her for his lover, but knowing her destiny was greater, educated her and saw that she learned to fight. Kaliq had realized her mother, Ilona, was the heiress of the old queen of the Forest Faeries. He had engineered a reunion between the three, and Lara had learned the truth of her mother’s desertion. Maeve had needed her. Ilona had had no other choice but to return to the faerie kingdom.

And on certain days Ilona herself would join them beneath the tree in the grass, and add her own voice to Lara’s tale. On other days she would arrive with Lara’s young half brother, Cirilo, who was but a year older than his nephew. The two women would watch as the boys played games together in the meadow, Anoush trailing after them.

“They are forging a close relationship,” Lara noted to her mother one warm afternoon. “When I first began my story Dillon thought Hetarians foolish for thinking faeries brought bad fortune. He said faeries only brought good luck.”

Ilona laughed softly. “So my grandson believes we are only good. Well, why not? In time he will come to see that faeries have at least two sides, as do mortals.” Then her voice grew even more serious. “How much longer?” she asked.

“A few more weeks,” Lara replied. “I want to be here when Noss has her new baby, and for a short while afterwards so I may help her.”

“Has she not servants to help her?” Ilona wanted to know.

“Of course, but better a friend, and it gives me more time with Dillon and Anoush, Mother. I do not know when I shall ever see them again once I have departed the Outlands. I ache already with my loss.” She sighed deeply with her sadness.

“At least your children will know that you love them, and did not leave them willingly,” Ilona said, her tone bitter. “It will not be like when I was forced to leave you behind to obey the dictates of the faerie world. Your mortal grandmother was a cruel woman, Lara. She was jealous that I should have any influence over you.”

“She did not know that I had a destiny, Mother. She raised me to live entirely within the mortal realm, for she knew nothing else herself. She loved me in her own way, but like you, I, too, regret the years we were separated. Still, we have each other now, and I am glad for it.” She took up the faerie woman’s hand, and kissed it. “I do love you, Mother,” she told Ilona.

“You have the mortal knack of taking something dark and making it light,” Ilona said with a small smile. “Perhaps mortals do have a certain magic about themselves after all.” She kissed the hand in hers. “No mother could have a better daughter.”

NOSS DELIVERED her child, a second son, early one late summer’s morning. The child was born healthy, howling his arrival, and with a head full of bright red hair like Liam. He was named Alroy, and his mother almost fainted seeing the size of him, for his birth had been quick. Alroy was a large infant with a prodigious appetite when put to his mother’s breast several hours later. His hands with their thick fingers kneaded Noss’s flesh demanding it give forth the nourishment Alroy needed. Noss was enchanted by her second son, and very proud.

All the children in the house were brought to look at the new baby.

“He has hair like Da,” Tearlach noted.

“Big,” Anoush remarked sagely.

“He’s going to be a great warrior,” Dillon said.

They all looked to the boy, curious.

“I see it,” Dillon continued. “I can’t help it. I just do.”

“A useful skill to have,” Lara said.

“It’s his faerie blood,” Asta, Liam’s mother said.

“Yes, it is!” Lara confirmed, “and isn’t that wonderful? I have told my mother, and she will see he is trained properly. My son will be quite a valuable asset to this clan family with such a talent.”

“Aye, he will be,” Liam replied. “But he must not be brought along too quickly lest his skill be harmed.”

Lara looked to the lord gratefully. Now she knew for certain that her children would be safe.

The days were shortening again. Lara could linger no longer, and she knew it. She could hear Ethne, her crystal guardian, urging her to go as she lay in her bed each night. It would get no easier, she realized, as each day passed. It would soon be time for the Gathering of the Outlands clan families, and she had promised herself she would go before then. Noss was up from her childbed, and managing the household well. The boys were at their lessons daily. Anoush, fascinated by Noss with her new son strapped about her body, trailed her as she went about her duties each day. It seemed to Lara that she had no place left in the hall that had once been hers and Vartan’s.

“You are going, aren’t you?” Dillon said to her as she put him to bed one evening.

“I will be gone when you awaken tomorrow,” Lara heard herself saying to her son. “Do not forget me, or that I love you dearly. Do not allow Anoush to forget me, or doubt that I loved her, too. I go because it is my destiny now. Do you understand, Dillon?”

“Yes, and no, Mama,” he told her.

She nodded. “I would wish it otherwise, my son. I believed that when this time came for us your father would be here. Yet I seem to have no choice in this matter.”

He nodded. “Will we ever see you again?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she assured him. “I just don’t know when, Dillon.”

“Do not forget us, Mama,” Dillon said to her.

“Never!” Lara swore. “My blood runs in your veins, Dillon, my son.”

He reached up, and touched her cheek with his small fingers. “You will be back, and before we are grown,” he said with assurance. Then he closed his eyes, and Lara sat by his side until his even breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep.

Standing, she went to the cot where her daughter lay sleeping. Anoush had her dainty form, but like her brother she had Vartan’s coloring. She would be beautiful one day, Lara thought. Bending, she placed a kiss on her daughter’s smooth forehead. Then leaving her two children, Lara returned to the hall where Liam and Noss were sitting.

“I must go now,” she told them.

“Wait till the morrow,” Noss begged her friend.

“If I do not leave now,” Lara said, “I do not know if I can. Dasras is now my son’s horse. I have spoken with him. Teach Dillon to ride him immediately,” Lara told Liam. “And remember your promise. Roan may not have Dasras, no matter what he offers you.”

“Will you find a way to communicate with us?” Liam wanted to know.

“I will try,” Lara promised. She went to Noss, and kissed her on both cheeks. “I trust you, dear friend,” she told her. “Do not let my children forget me.”

“I will be worthy, I swear it,” Noss declared.

Lara then walked from the hall and out into the night. Above her the sky over the Outlands was ablaze with stars. “Aral change!” she said, and in her temporary form as a great plains owl she arose into the air to circle Camdene just once. And then, its great wings flapping, the night bird turned and flew toward the coastlands.

Chapter 3

THE PLAINS OWL flew steadily through the night sky. On the earth below the grazing cattle gave way to grazing sheep. The invisible barrier between Fiacre lands and those of the Felan had been crossed. The owl flew on until it saw below the village of Adrie where Rendor, Lord of the Felan, made his home. Some few miles beyond the village lay the waters of the great sea of Sagitta. The great bird was tempted to fly out over the sea, but it was beginning to tire. With a whir of its wings the owl dropped to the land below. As its clawed feet touched the ground Lara said, “Aral change!” and was immediately restored to her own form.

“I thought you would come tonight,” Rendor’s voice said from the open door of his house where he awaited her. “Welcome to Adrie, Lara. Come in!”

“How did you guess?” Lara asked him, smiling as he led her into his hall.

Rendor’s deep laugh warmed the hall, and he pointed to his high board where Andraste, her sword, and Verica, her staff, lay. “I knew if you sent them ahead that you would not be far behind,” the Felan clan lord chuckled.

Lara laughed in return. “I might have come on the morrow,” she said.

“You would never leave the sword and staff alone long,” he replied wisely. “Their sudden appearance quite startled a young maidservant clearing the evening meal from the table. She shrieked with her surprise, and the staff spoke quite sharply to her, causing her to faint dead away. I cannot recall when Rahil and I have laughed so hard,” he finished with a grin.

“Oh, I am sorry!” Lara apologized. “Verica dislikes magical travel, but as I did not choose to ride, it was the simplest and easiest way to transport him. He wanted me to fly the whole distance carrying him in the owl’s claws.”

“Come and sit by the fire,” Rendor invited her. He walked to a sideboard and poured two small goblets of wine, handing her one.

“I will stay with you but a few days,” Lara said. “I know you must soon depart for the Gathering.”

“My men and I will personally escort you to King Archeron,” Rendor said. “The king must be reminded that Lara, widow of Vartan, daughter of Swiftsword, is greatly honored among all the Outlands clans. For all his scorn of the City and Hetar’s government, Archeron is still Hetarian, and appearance is everything to him.”

“Is he aware of how well you understand him?” Lara asked Rendor.

“I doubt it,” Rendor replied. “He knows I am not a barbarian, but deep in his head, the doubts linger. If I were to come into his hall in furs, waving my sword, with helmeted warriors at my back he would not, I believe, be in the least surprised.” The clan lord chuckled. “I always feel he is just waiting for me to reveal my true colors and prove Hetar right, that Outlanders are savages.”

Lara giggled at the thought of Rendor in furs waving his sword. Then she grew serious. “We are far more civilized here in the Outlands than in Hetar with all its rules and mores.”

“Then why do you return to it?” Rendor asked her.

“It is that damned destiny I seem to have been given,” Lara told him. “I knew, and Vartan knew, too, that one day it would call me from the Outlands. I have no idea why I am going to the Coastal Kingdom, but that is where I am meant to be now. In the night I have asked Ethne, my crystal guardian, and she agrees. But Archeron’s realm and that of his brothers is not my final destination, Rendor. I do not yet know where I will go, but when it is time I will.”