A Distant Tomorrow (35 page)

Finally Rendor went to his bed, and slept heavily. The day that followed seemed to go even more slowly than the one before. But at last it was night, and he was once again alone in his hall. Completing his duties he sought out his bed, and being weary with his concern he fell quickly asleep.

“Rendor?”

It was Lara’s voice. The Felan clan lord opened his eyes, and found himself on a foggy plain. “I am here,” he answered her.

“Good!” Lara said appearing by his side. Then with a wave of her hand she cleared the mists surrounding them, and there spread before him was the most beautiful land he had ever seen.

“It is so green,” he told her, and she laughed.

“Aye, it is,” she agreed.

He bent down, and pulled several stalks of grass from the earth. The ground beneath was dark and loamy. Rendor chewed on the grass. It was sweet.

“Are you making this so?” he asked her.

“I am merely allowing you to know the truth I speak of this place,” Lara said.

“Show me the sea,” Rendor said.

Lara waved her hand again and they were standing on a high bluff overlooking a broad beach of smooth golden sand. Beyond it stretched a turquoise sea. The air surrounding them was warm and fresh, the wind gentle.

Rendor breathed deeply. “I can smell the sea,” he said.

“Yes,” she answered him. Nothing more.

“The mountains?” he queried her.

Lara pointed, and Rendor followed the direction of her finger. The Emerald range was even farther away than the Purple Mountains of the Outlands. The Terahn plain was obviously larger than their own. The clan families would have more land for their flocks and herds, for cultivation. He had to admit he was impressed.

“There is no magic in what I see?” he queried Lara.

“The only magic I have used is that which allows me to show you what Magnus and I have promised you,” Lara answered him. “The Terahn plain, the Sea of Obscura, the Emerald Mountains are all exactly as I have shown it to you, Rendor.”

“If you can do this, then make it happen,” Rendor said. “I have no need to engage in a war with Hetar, nor have any of the clan families.”

“Magnus and I will come to you on the second night of the Gathering. Call a confidential meeting of the clan lords. We will present our case then,” Lara said.

“Your Dominus is right. They must all agree for no one can be left behind to even hint at where we have gone,” Rendor said.

“None will be. I will convince even the most difficult skeptic,” Lara promised him. “It is my destiny, Rendor, to save the clan families. I was born to do this, and I will! Failure is not in my nature. Besides my magic is great now, and the Shadow Princes have not protected the Outlands all these months to see your people destroyed now. Have you seen enough, my friend?”

“I have,” he told her.

“Then sleep once more, Rendor of the Felan. I will see you soon,” Lara said.

And he woke up to discover it was morning. He should have felt exhausted, but instead he felt invigorated, and full of excitement. He had sensed that something was changing, and now he knew what it was. The Terahn plain was beautiful, and the people of the Outlands were going to be happy there. Happy and safe from Hetar for the first time in their history. For the next few days he worked to prepare for the trek to the Gathering. His wife, Rahil, remarked on his newfound vigor as they enjoyed pleasures together one afternoon for the first time in many weeks.

“You are like a carefree lad again,” she told him, a pleased smile upon her face. “I quite enjoy it, Rendor, my husband. It is as if the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders.”

“It has!” Rendor told her.

“How has this happened?” she wanted to know.

“You shall soon know, wife,” he said to her. “But now is not the time.” His fingers tweaked the large nipple on her big breast. “Now is the time for more pleasures, Rahil!” And he was suckling upon her while his fingers entertained themselves within her hot wet sheath, and she moaned with undisguised delight. And when he finally mounted her Rahil could not contain her cries of satisfaction while those within hearing in the hall nodded and murmured that Rendor was still as lusty as his finest breeding ram, and that Rahil was a most fortunate woman.

Days later they left for the Gathering, traveling across the Outlands plain to the Gathering place. Rendor was pleased to see those clan families who lived farthest away, the Piaras and the Tormod, had already arrived. Petruso, lord of the Piaras clan, now shared his authority with his eldest son, Vanko, who spoke for his father. Petruso had had his tongue torn out in the last Hetarian invasion, rendering him speechless, but he was still a fierce fighter.

Imre, lord of the Tormod, greeted Rendor jovially. “We almost have our lands restored,” he told the Lord of the Felan, “but of course Petruso complains it will never again be the same,” he chuckled. “For a man who can no longer speak he has become incredibly vocal.”

Rendor smiled. “Surely you didn’t think the loss of his tongue would render Petruso silent? He was always a vocal man, but I do regret the loss of his singing voice. Who else is here?” He gazed around the encampment.

“Everyone but the Blathma,” Imre said. “You know Floren is always late because some field or another needed his final touch before the first frost. He should be here by tomorrow. Why?”

“We will need to have a secret meeting of the clan lords,” Rendor said. “And until it is concluded it must be kept from public knowledge.”

Imre’s bushy eyebrow quirked with his unspoken questions.

“Not here, and not yet,” Rendor said. “And say nothing to the others. I will speak with each of them myself, but you cannot be seen speaking among each other, my friend.”

“Is it good, or is it bad?” Imre wanted to know. “At least tell me that.”

“It is both, but more good in the end, I believe,” Rendor answered him.

Imre nodded. “You have piqued my curiosity,” he replied.

Floren and his Blathma clan arrived late that day, surprising everyone. Therefore the general meeting of the Outlands Council was held that same evening, because once the meeting was over, the clan families could begin their celebrations of the year just past. The following morning Rendor went from clan lord to clan lord, calling them to a secret meeting late that night when the celebrations had reached a point where the lords would not be missed. “A small tent has been set up on the outskirts of the camp,” he told them. “Speak to no one about this, not even your wives and sons. Our very lives may depend upon your silence. I will answer no questions now. And remain sober! This is important business we have to discuss. You cannot have heads muddled by wine.”

So the clan lords were careful in their eating and drinking at the evening’s celebration, but no one noticed, for on this first night feast discretion was usually thrown to the winds. The Gathering was the high point of their year. The fires continued to burn high as the revelry continued late into the night. One by one the clan lords disappeared from the festivities, but no one noticed. Finally, all were gathered in the little tent. Liam of the Fiacre. Petruso and Vanko of the Piaras. Imre of the Tormod. Roan of the Aghy. Floren of the Blathma. Torin of the Gitta. Accius of the Devyn. And Rendor of the Felan, their council lord.

“What is all the mystery?” Roan wanted to know. “Why could no one know of this meeting?”

“Because our very lives depend upon this secrecy,” Rendor immediately answered. “Lara, come forth.”

A surprised murmur arose from the men gathered at the sound of Lara’s name, and then her sudden appearance among them. She was accompanied by Kaliq of the Shadow Princes, and a tall stranger with the look of authority about him. The Outlands lords each fell to one knee at the sight of her. Their homage was impressive.

“Greetings, my lords!” Lara said. “It is good to be among you once again. I thank you for your courtesy, but please rise and be seated. You all know Prince Kaliq, and my other companion is the Dominus of Terah, Magnus Hauk.”

“What is Terah?” Roan of the Aghy wanted to know.

“You have heard of the Sea called Sagitta that borders both Rendor’s lands, and the lands of the Coastal Kings? On the other side of this sea is a wondrous place known as Terah. Magnus Hauk is its ruler, and I will shortly be his wife.”

“There were rumors that you were dead,” Accius of the Devyn said.

“Did you make up a death song for me then, Accius?” Lara asked with a smile.

“We did not believe the rumor,” the lord of the Devyn bards replied with an answering smile. “You are the daughter of Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries. Death cannot claim you yet, Lara.”

“Why have you returned to us?” Liam of the Fiacre queried. “Have you found your destiny then?”

“I have found a portion of my destiny, Liam of the Fiacre,” she replied. “My destiny is to keep the Outlands clan families from destruction.”

“Destruction? What destruction?” Floren of the Blathma demanded to know. “We are at peace with Hetar. What threatens us?”

“Hetar threatens you, Floren. They mean to invade the Outlands come the spring. Their mercenary armies will come through the province of the Coastal Kings into Felan lands, and from there into all of the Outlands. And when they have conquered much of your lands another attack will be launched through the mountains of the Tormod and the Piaras, thus pinning the remaining Outlands in a two-pronged attack.”

“We will fight Hetar and drive them back as we did before!” Roan of the Aghy declared, leaping to his feet.

“Aye!” his companions chorused.

“Nay,” Lara told them. “You will not. For a year the Shadow Princes have kept the Outlands safe for you, but even their powers have limits. They can protect you no longer. Gaius Prospero, Hetar’s emperor, has raised a mighty force to come against you. They will be led and commanded by Hetar’s Crusader Knights. He has expended his own monies to train and house these men, and Gaius Prospero never does anything that does not yield him a goodly profit.

“Hetar suffers from overpopulation, and an inability to feed itself. The people have grown poorer with each passing day. They can barely subsist, and what little coin they can spare goes to feed and house them. There is little profit to be made any longer, and profit is the life blood of Hetar. In order to gain his position Gaius Prospero has promised the people much. He has promised them lands to live upon, and lands that will feed them. He has promised that he will return Hetar to prosperity. He has already used his power to encroach upon the Forest Lords, and along the edges of the desert sands belonging to the Shadow Princes. But it is not enough. He needs the Outlands, and he means to have them.”

“And why should we not defend our homes, Lara?” Roan asked her.

“Because if you do you will die,” Lara said bluntly. “You will die, and those who survive will be sold into slavery. Your flocks, your herds, everything, will be given to those Hetarians who follow the mercenary armies into the Outlands. Is this what you desire? The death of the Outlands clan families?”

“What other choice can you offer us?” Liam wanted to know.

“I can take you to Terah,” Lara replied. She turned to the Dominus. “Tell them, my good lord.”

“My lands are vast,” Magnus Hauk began. “My people inhabit but a fraction of these lands, and all along the fingers of the sea we call fjords. Beyond the Emerald Mountains is a vast plain much like this one. It is fertile, and it is uninhabited. It is bordered by a second sea, larger than Sagitta. I offer you these lands, my lords, both mountain and plains. I ask only that once yearly, when I come to you, you give me your pledge of fealty.”

“And Hetar knows nothing of Terah?” Torin of the Gitta asked.

“Only the Coastal Kings know of Terah,” Lara responded, “for Terah supplies all the luxury goods Hetar desires. But I am the first Hetarian to go to Terah. Terahn vessels meet with Hetarian vessels in the middle of Sagitta. It is there they exchange their goods.

“The kings do not want anyone else in Hetar to know of Terah lest they lose what they perceive as their advantage. Gaius Prospero assumes the goods he deals in are manufactured by the Coastal Kings. He has never been to this province. Terah is their secret, and they will keep it.”

“You are asking us to give up our lands to go to a place none of us knows,” Floren said. “I will not do it! My fields are like my children. I know them well. I spend the winter months in my hall developing new varieties of my plants. The Hetarians will find me too valuable to kill, and will leave me be if I do not fight them.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Torin of the Gitta said. His clan family were also farmers. “Do you not understand, Floren? What in the name of the lord of Limbo makes you think that the Hetarians will leave you in peace because you do not resist them? They want the Outlands for themselves. If they were content to live in peace with us they would not be planning an invasion. They do not want to rule us—they want to annihilate us!”

“How can you know that for certain?” Floren replied.

“Stay,” Torin said. “Watch while your wife and daughters are forced to give pleasures to Hetar’s Mercenaries before they are killed, but in your case I suspect you would be more distressed if they cooked and ate your new plants.”