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.”