prosperity as did his sire before him,” Accius ended his tribute, bowing first to the young Dominus, then his mother and the rest of the guests.
There was much appreciative clapping as the Devyn bard took his seat again.
“There is something I must do before we conclude this,” Lara said softly to her young son. “I will leave my image behind so that no one knows I am gone.” She touched his cheek gently, and then was gone. Materializing first in her own chambers, she took down her sword, Andraste, which hung above the hearth. Then she reached for her staff, Verica. Verica had been away from her for a few years while he accompanied Lara’s eldest son to the desert kingdom of the Shadow Princes. Kaliq had returned him to her when Dillon had gone to Belmair. Her two companions in her firm grasp, Lara magicked them into the stables, where she hurried to the stall of her great white stallion, Dasras. Browsing in his oat bucket, he looked up, recognizing her footsteps.
“Mistress, my condolences,” he said, and bowed to her.
“Thank you,” Lara said. “Now you three must go and pay your farewells to Magnus Hauk. He has sheltered you all these many years.”
“Indeed,” Dasras replied. “It is only right, Mistress.”
“We must hurry, for his vessel will set sail at sunset,” Lara told them. Then, grasping a handful of the stallion’s thick, silvery-white mane, she vaulted onto his back, reaching for her sword and staff, which she had leaned against the stall wall.
There was no one in the stables as all were at the feast, but had there been no one would have been startled by the stable doors which opened before them. Lara rode out onto the stone quay, and up the gangway onto the deck of the ship. It bobbed gently in the flat sea about it. Lara slid off Dasras’s back.
The stallion bent his head, and touched the forehead of the dead man with his velvety muzzle. “May your journey be a safe one, Magnus Hauk. May your destination be all that you could imagine. I thank you for your kindness and your generosity to me.”
The wood staff, Verica, opened his eyes, staring down at the Dominus. “Be at peace, mortal,” he said.
Lara’s sword, Andraste, began to sing softly, her ruby eyes glowing. Usually when Andraste sang it was in a deep voice, and her song was one of threatening terror and imminent doom to all who heard it. Now, however, the voice she sang with was sweeter than honey, her words reassuring. “You have earned your place among those few especial mortals, Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah. Your progeny will honor your name forever. Walk in the light you have made yourself by your good deeds and your good heart. I bid you farewell!”
Lara’s eyes misted briefly. Andraste’s tribute to Magnus Hauk had come from the very core of the magic weapon. Andraste did not suffer fools, or give praise lightly. “Thank you all,” she told her closest companions. Then, using her magic, she sent them back to their places. Alone on the ship Lara sank to the deck next to the open coffin. “I have done everything that was expected of me, and more, my lord,” she told him. “I am not Terahn born, but I have kept Terahn customs better than any Terahn. No one will question our son’s blood, my love. And in these few days I have certainly seen how much like you he really is. Did you see how he put Narda and Aselma in their places?” She laughed softly. “He is pure mortal Terahn, Magnus. He will be a good Dominus, but I would have preferred it if he were older.” She sighed. “I have prevented any challenge to Taj’s rights by appointing our brothers-in-law as the Dominus’s Council. They say they will leave me in peace to do what I must, but I wonder, Magnus. I wonder.”
Lara reached out and touched her husband’s lifeless face. “I do not think I can bear it without you, but I have to, don’t I?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Taj needs me, and so do Anoush, Zagiri and Marzina.” She sighed again. “My mother warned me that giving my faerie heart to a mortal would bring me eventual sorrow. At least now you do not have to grow old while I remain as I am. Oh, Magnus! There wasn’t enough time. There just wasn’t enough time!” And Lara wept.
“You cannot stay here any longer.” The voice of the Shadow Prince, Kaliq, pierced through her grief. “Your image is beginning to waver, and you will cause a panic if it disappears entirely. Your hall is full of mortal beings who are not used to your faerie magic, Lara, my love. Have mercy upon them, I beg you.”
She looked up to see him standing by her side. “Nay, I don’t want them remembering Magnus Hauk’s Farewell as the time his faerie wife disappeared before their eyes.” She stood up. “Return!” she said and found herself back in the hall in her seat. Reaching out, she touched her son’s cheek with her fingertips to let him know she was returned. “The sun is close to setting, my lord Dominus,” she told him.
Taj Hauk stood up, and immediately the Great Hall grew silent. “It is time,” he told them all. Then he stepped from the dais and led his mother from the High Board through the crowds in the large chamber.
“Give us a blessing, faerie woman,” some dared to beg as they passed by, and when they did Lara would smile sweetly and say that they now had it.
“They love her,” Lady Persis said to her daughters.
“I don’t know why they should,” Narda muttered.
“Nor I,” Aselma agreed.
“It is because you do not know her,” Sirvat told them. “If you did you would not be so spiteful, sisters.”
“She bewitched our brother, and held him in her thrall, yet she could not save him from death,” Aselma said bitterly.
“It is not within a faerie’s powers to keep death away for long,” Sirvat responded. “She did what she could so Magnus might make his last wishes known. And she healed my husband of grievous wounds.”
“Well,” Narda said, “at least our husbands will be in charge of directing our nephew’s path. Terah will be as it has always been.”
“Aye!” Aselma echoed.
“How ignorant you both are,” Sirvat answered. “Terah will never be as it was. Not now that Hetar knows us. Magnus knew that, and was wise enough to raise a defense force to keep us strong and safe.”
“And that would have never had to happen if she hadn’t come here,” Narda replied. “She has brought the misfortune of strangers upon us.”
“If Lara hadn’t come our men would still be deaf to our voices, although I imagine there are times Tostig would be happy not to hear your discontented carping,” Sirvat said sharply. “Terah is the better for Lara. Our brother is gone, but she gave him a fine son who has taken his place as our Dominus. Now see if you can both cease your bitterness long enough to honor our brother as he leaves us.”
“Your sister is correct in all she says,” Lady Persis said quietly.
“What, Mother? Do you take Lara’s side now?” Aselma wanted to know.
“When Lara came I will admit I was not happy, for I expected my son to wed a Terahn girl, but the truth is none suited him. Lara, however, did suit him. She has been a good wife to your brother, giving him children, and while she is bolder than Terahn women, it pleased your brother that she was. Look at all that has happened since his death three days ago. Could any Terahn-born Domina have acted more suitably, my daughters? She has honored the customs of this land scrupulously. I know now more than ever how fortunate my son was in his choice of a wife. Now cease your meanness.”
Narda
