A Distant Tomorrow (57 page)

And when all had been assembled Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah, told these leaders of his land everything that had transpired. Then he surprised them by introducing Rendor, lord of the Felan, to them. The fjord dwellers were astounded to learn that there were people dwelling beyond the Emerald Mountains. Fulcrum and Gulltopp, the two gnome leaders, understood the Dominus’s reasoning for telling the fjord dwellers that the clan families had always been there. They kept their own counsel and listened.

“My captain of captains, Lord Corrado, has been seeing to the rebuilding of the coastal watchtowers in recent weeks. These towers must be manned at all times from now on,” the Dominus said. “And we must build a defense force to keep Terah safe.”

“We are craftsmen, my lord Dominus,” the leader of the Jewel Fjord said. “What do we know of weapons, and war?”

“If we are strong there will be no war,” Magnus Hauk answered. “And you can learn to wield weapons as skillfully as you wield your jeweler’s tools. Our armies are for defensive purposes only. They are to deter any invasion by indicating our great strength.”

“May I speak, my lord Dominus?” Lara asked him.

“The Domina would speak,” Magnus Hauk said nodding to his wife.

“My lords, I was born in the faerie realm, but raised in Hetar. My father, a mortal man as yourself, was a Mercenary before he became a Crusader Knight. He is a great warrior. There are many great warriors in Hetar. If they come to Terah they will overwhelm you if you cannot defend yourselves. If we show the emissary—who Hetar will surely send us sooner than later—that we are capable of defending our homeland, they will think better of invading Terah. It is likely we will never have to fight them, but it is better to be well prepared. Each of your villages must raise a fighting force. You have no other choice, I fear. It is not a bad thing for a man to know how to defend himself and what is his,” Lara told them.

“It is easy for you, Domina, for you are a woman,” the headman from the Jewel Fjord said. “You do not have to fight.”

“My lords, like my father, I am a warrior. I have slain men in battle,” Lara told them. And she silently called Andraste to come to her.

They looked disbelieving at her, but then gasped at the sword that instantly appeared in her hand.

“This is Andraste, my weapon,” Lara explained. She raised the sheathed sword above her head, holding it by the protected blade.

There was another gasp as those gathered for the meeting spied the face in the sword, and Andraste opened her jeweled eyes to look out at them.

“I am Andraste,” the sword’s deep voice echoed across the counsel chamber. “I drink the blood of the wicked and the unjust. I serve my mistress, the swordswoman Lara, daughter of Swiftsword. Together we have slain many. Who would doubt my word?” Andraste demanded of them.

The chamber was silent.

“Then heed my mistress’s words, men and women of Terah. She walks in the light.” Andraste now fell silent, and her eyes closed once more.

“Women, not all women, but some, are capable of defending Terah. I will teach those who would come to me,” Lara said.

Magnus Hauk put his arm about his wife. The look on his face was one of great pride. “I will now tell you how together we can accomplish what we need to do for our own protection,” he said to them. And over the next few hours he, Corrado and Lara did.

After several days, the headmen of each named fjord, the headmen of the fjord villages and their wives departed back to their own homes. Two faeriepost messengers went with each ship sailing from the Dominus’s Fjord. And just as the Icy Season began, ships from each named fjord—the Silk, the Jewel, the Ocean, the Star, the Green and the Light—arrived filled with men, both old and young, who had volunteered to be trained for the new Terahn army. And Lara, using her magic, brought seven hundred young men from the seven clan families to join the others. She and Magnus had decided that this would be a good beginning toward uniting all their people.

Throughout the winter those men who had served for years as men-at-arms for the castle, and some of the older new Outlanders, taught the younger men their fighting skills. But Lara taught them swordsmanship. And she called upon her old teacher, Lothair, of the Shadow Princes, to help her. He had gladly come. By the time the spring began to show evidence of coming Terah had the beginning of its first army. The fjord dwellers and the new Outlanders integrated well. The fact that there were seven named fjords and seven clan families seemed to draw them together.

Spring came, and the hills around them grew greener. Sirvat easily delivered a son, named Hali. The Sagitta welcomed ships again, and the Terahn trading fleet set out for the season. As Lara had predicted, one of their captains returned with a request from Hetar to send a ship to visit the Dominus. The answer was sent back: no. Any Hetarian ship entering Terahn waters would be sunk. Lara laughed when her husband wrote it, sealing it with the Dominus’s ring seal in the hot wax.

“You are going to intrigue Gaius Prospero even more with such a fierce reply,” she giggled. “He knows so little of Terah, and he so desperately wants to know more.”

Several weeks passed, and then a second message was brought to Magnus Hauk. “He wants to send an emissary. Hetar and Terah will meet at the trading place, and the emissary will transfer to the Terahn vessel with my guarantee he will not be harmed,” the Dominus told his wife.

“Summer is almost here,” Lara said. “Let us wait a while before you reply. Then send to the emperor saying you will consider his suggestion.”

In midsummer Magnus Hauk did just that, and then they waited again.

A new message arrived. The emperor appreciated the Dominus’s courtesy in considering his request. He would await Terah’s final answer.

“Jonah wrote that,” Lara said laughing. “Gaius Prospero is fuming that you have not acceded to his demands. His curiosity is eating him up.”

Finally in late summer Magnus Hauk sent to the emperor of Hetar. He would allow a single emissary to visit him. One man. Not even a servant would be allowed to accompany him. The Dominus would personally guarantee the emissary’s safety while he was in Terahn hands. If the emperor would be so kind as to inform them when the emissary was coming they would make the proper preparations to welcome him. He would not be allowed to disembark from his ship until those preparations were firmly in place. Lara had suggested this tactic to delay the emissary’s arrival even more.

“Proper preparations are something Hetar will understand perfectly,” she said. “Manner and civility are very important to them. How they appear to others is one of their greatest concerns,” Lara explained.

The message was sent. Another received saying Hetar would wait to be informed until the proper preparations were completed.

“Now,” Lara said, “you will make them wait just a wee bit longer before you agree to welcome Hetar’s emissary. If we time it properly our visitor will come for the briefest stay because it will be just before the Icy Season sets in again. Our visitor will want to be gone before he cannot go. And the seas will not be particularly friendly by then. It should be a most uncomfortable voyage for the Hetarian.”

“I think you are enjoying all of this,” Magnus told her. They were together in their bed as they spoke. “There is a decidedly wicked streak in you, Domina.” He kissed the top of her golden head, and cupping a single breast caressed it tenderly.

“Of course I can be wicked, my lord,” Lara admitted. “All women can. Umm, that feels nice,” she purred.

“We will send our message in two weeks time,” the Dominus said, and then he put his wife beneath him and shared passionate pleasures with her.

T
WO
MONTHS
LATER
Corrado’s ship, its lavender sails billowing in the late autumn wind, sailed up the Dominus’s Fjord carrying the emissary from Hetar. The emissary was relieved to be off of the sea, which had seemed to him to be boiling and rolling from the moment he set foot upon his Terahn transport. He looked around him. There were manned stone watchtowers set on both sides of the fjords’ heights as their ship entered the inland waterway. He swore that he saw mirrored signals being sent as they came in from the sea. The steep hills on either side of the fjord were greener than anything he had ever seen. As their ship rounded a sharp bend the emissary saw a magnificent castle ahead of them. It was worthy of a great ruler. He was impressed.

Built of dark gray stone, the royal dwelling sprang from the mountainside, its towers soaring upward into the bright blue autumn skies. There were planted terraces that seemed to hang suspended over the fjord. There was nothing at all like it in Hetar. Then their vessel docked, tying up at a long stone quay. The dock was lined on either side by armed guardsmen who stood straight and tall.

“My lord, if you will allow me to escort you to the Dominus,” Captain Corrado said. “I hope you appreciate the guard of honor sent for you. Visitors are rarely welcome here.” He led his passenger from the deck, down the gangway and onto the quay. The guardsmen fell into formation, half behind them, and half ahead. Corrado led the visitor into the stone entrance, and together they stepped upon the transport with their guard. “The lifts are powered by giants whose task it is to pull their passengers up, or lower them down,” Corrado explained.

“Most unique,” the Hetarian emissary said. There was nothing like this in Hetar.

Reaching their destination Corrado escorted his companion down a hall lit with crystal globes of firebugs. There were guardsmen stationed along its length. At the end of the corridor were two tall bronze doors. Two men at the head of the escort jumped forward to fling open the doors. Corrado never broke stride, although the emissary stumbled nervously as his eyes swept the great chamber.

It was round, and topped by an alabaster dome. The floors were great blocks of marble edged in narrow bands of pure gold. The stone walls were hung with heavy ornate tapestries, and they walked upon a beautiful narrow carpet of pure scarlet wool. At the end of the carpet was a white marble dais shot through with veins of gold. Three steps led to the top of the dais. Into the bottom step was carved the word, TERAH. Into the second step was the word, DOMINA, and the third step read DOMINUS. The chamber was lit by torches that had been fitted into footed bronze stands. A great crystal candelabra hung from the very center of the dome. Censers of incense—myrrh, the emissary thought, sniffing as delicately as he could—were set about the room.

Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah, arose to greet the emissary. He was garbed in a brocaded gold robe sewn with pearls and sparkling gemstones. About his dark blond head was a narrow gold circlet studded with a large single ruby in its center. His turquoise-blue eyes were all the more startling for the gold he wore. “Welcome to Terah,” the Dominus said.

The emissary bowed low, but his eyes were already going to the woman—also garbed in gold, with a ruby-and-golden circlet about her forehead, her gold-and-gilt hair flowing around her—who had come forward to stand by her husband’s side.

“I echo the Dominus’s greeting, Lord Jonah. Welcome to Terah,” Lara said smiling, one elegant and delicate little hand upon the distended belly that even her exquisite robe could not hide.

Jonah smiled a weak smile in return. He sensed this was not going to go the way Gaius Prospero wanted. He could feel that Hetar was already at a disadvantage. Terah was clearly a strong land, and would not be taken easily, if at all. It was even possible that Terah might conquer Hetar if they chose to do so. He suddenly recalled the words of the prophecy, written in the Book of Hetar, in the temple of the Celestial Actuary, words that neither Gaius Prospero nor he ever wanted to speak.

From the darkness came a maiden. From the golden light came a warrior. From a distant tomorrow comes Hetar’s true destiny.

He shivered. Looking at Lara, Domina of Terah, Jonah knew in his heart that this beautiful woman would indeed be Hetar’s true destiny one day. But how? He could not even begin to imagine.

* * * * *

ISBN: 9781459222878

Copyright © 2006 by Bertrice Small

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