“Yes,” Lara said, and went on to tell him of Noss’s life now.
Finally, as the sun was reaching the midday, Og said, “I must leave you now for I have my horses to look after.” He bowed to the Dominus. “My lord, I do not have to tell you to take care of Lara, for I know you will.”
Magnus Hauk nodded.
“I do not know if I will see you again before you depart,” Og told Lara. He kissed her on both cheeks. “The Celestial Actuary guard and protect you, Lara.” Then he turned and left them.
“I believe he loved you once as a man loves a woman,” Magnus Hauk observed.
“Yes,” Lara replied. “But it has changed now into the love between friends. I always knew, but I never let him know for I would not shame him, or give him false hope.” She took her husband’s hand. “Let us go back now, my lord.”
ARCAS WAS NOT HAPPY. He had returned from the City to discover his father back in his palace, and seemingly in the best of health. And Archeron did not mince words with his only son.
“What have you done, you fool?” Archeron demanded. “You have brought Hetar into the kingdom, Arcas. What were you thinking of when you did that?”
“They are only using our beaches as a path for their invasion,” Arcas said.
“They have eyes, fool! They have ears! What will they see? Our palaces, but no manufactories. Thanks to you, Gaius Prospero will soon ferret out the secret of the Coastal Kingdom. That we trade with a land called Terah. That they are the ones who supply us with the goods we sell to the Taubyl Traders.”
“What difference does it make if they know?” Arcas said sulkily.
“What use will they have for us if they know, you fool? Gaius Prospero will leap upon the chance for new and greater profit. We have stood between Terah and Hetar, selling their goods, taking our profits. Now we will sooner than later lose that advantage to that greedy slug who calls himself emperor of Hetar. Our isolation from the City has been our salvation, Arcas, and you have thrown it away! We will become nothing more than a seaport through which Gaius Prospero builds a greater empire for himself. If I could send back those troops camping on our beaches I would. But I cannot.”
“No, you cannot,” Arcas sneered. “Soon enough they will march into the Outlands, father. Your friend, Rendor of the Felan, will be the first to fall,” he laughed.
Archeron stared coldly at his offspring. Prince Kaliq had promised that the Outlands clan families would not be harmed, and the Coastal King believed the prince. He had not explained further, but Archeron knew that was the way with magic. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you, Arcas,” he said, and gained great satisfaction in seeing his son grow pale. “When this is over I am exiling you from the Coastal Kingdom. You are a traitor to us, and to Hetar. Now leave me!”
Arcas slunk from the chamber seething. His father had been close to death when the damned Shadow Princes had stepped into the situation and spirited Archeron off. He had had everyone convinced that Archeron was pining for his late wife. Well, let his father enjoy his last few days of glory. The emperor had promised an end to the Coastal Kings. Once the Outlands were secure they would be no more, and he, Arcas, would be appointed governor of the new Coastal province. Archeron and his fellow kings would have to accept what was happening or the emperor would have them executed. He walked down to the beach to join some of the Crusader Knights who were leading the invasion. They welcomed him, flattered him and offered him some of their wine. Arcas was an intimate of the emperor, and a man never knew when he would need a favor.
Two days later he rode with them as they entered the Outlands. They rode up from the beaches onto the plain, and it did not take Arcas long to realize he could see no sheep grazing. The land stretched unblemished as far as the eye could see.
“How near is the first village?” the Commander Knight asked him.
“We should already have reached it by now,” Arcas replied slowly. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
They rode on for the next three days, and in that time they saw no herds, no Outlanders, no structures of any kind. The Crusader Knights were becoming confused, and the Mercenaries riding with them restless. They were deep into the Outlands now, and all they could see was the great plain and the Purple Mountains beyond. Where were the people? Where were the villages? It was finally decided that the great army would make an encampment and wait for further instructions. A faeriepost was sent to the emperor in the City.
Jonah read the post before his master, as was his custom. Odd, he thought. Were the Outlanders in hiding, having been warned in advance of Hetar’s invasion? It was not impossible that they had learned of it, and knowing they would not be able to overcome such a large force as Hetar was sending into their territory, had hidden themselves. But if that was so, where were the villages, and the animals? The post clearly stated that there was nothing in the Outlands but a vast expanse of land. Jonah took the post to Gaius Prospero, who read it and then looked to his right hand.
“They must be mistaken.”
“They have ridden for three full days, and Arcas is with them,” Jonah said.
“There is nothing?” Gaius Prospero looked slightly panicked. “No people? No herds? No planted fields of crops? We were told at least two of those clan families farmed great tracts of land, growing all manner of things. I have promised homes and slaves to our people.”
“Do not agitate yourself, my good lord,” Jonah said in his soothing voice. “We know there are folk in the Outlands. Perhaps they have hidden themselves in the mountains with the mining clans. Was not John Swiftsword chosen to lead that force? Before we give into our dismay, let us send him and his Mercenaries into the Purple Mountains. Hetar was there just a few years ago, and we know the villages, the people and the mines exist. I wager we will find the rest of the Outlands clan families there with their flocks and herds.”
“But what of the missing villages?” Gaius Prospero babbled nervously.
“They probably burned them to spite us,” Jonah reasoned.
“Yes, yes! Of course they did!” The emperor sounded relieved.
“And we will put out a bulletin for the people saying the invasion goes well, and we have yet to suffer any casualties due to the skill of our soldiers and the competent leadership of the Crusader Knights. We will say the Outlanders have fled before our armies, and will soon be in custody,” Jonah suggested.
“Yes!” Gaius Prospero said. “Yes, Jonah! Do it all. Dispatch John Swiftsword, and inform our people that all goes well in our campaign to reclaim the Outlands. And do not forget Lara’s Fiacre children. I want them in my custody.”
Jonah bowed. “It shall be as you command, my lord emperor.”
Receiving his marching orders John Swiftsword departed with his Mercenary force, and marched into the foothills of the Purple Mountains. Soon he and his small army were deep in the mountains. There seemed to be no roads, however, and he wondered how the carts of dead had traversed the steep forested sides of these mountains to reach the City several years back. The forest grew thicker and denser as they traveled. They had to hack their way through it at one point. They saw not a village. Not a farmstead. Not a person or domesticated creature. And if there were mines, they were very well hidden from his view. Finally they began to come down from the mountains, and before them stretched a great plain. John Swiftsword had his forces make an encampment on that plain directly below the mountains. Then he sent a faeriepost to the City asking for further instructions. He had not been told of the larger army’s empty trek.
Jonah read the missive from the mountain army. And having read it he realized there was great magic involved. Neither of Hetar’s forces had found signs of disaster, or illness, or aught that would explain the Outlanders’ disappearance. As fantastic as it sounded, as incredible as it was to believe, it must be that that the entire population of the Outlands, their villages, their goods and chattels had been removed to another place. But where? He brought the faeriepost from John Swiftsword to Gaius Prospero to hear what he would say, what he might think of the situation before he offered his own thoughts.
The emperor blanched. “There is nothing? No one? No signs of the mines? But Jonah, we know that they were there. We brought out thousands in gold, silver and gemstones. If there was nothing there, then what was the Winter War all about? I did not imagine those seven stinking carts piled high with our dead.”
“No, you did not, my lord emperor,” Jonah murmured. “There is indeed an explanation, fantastic as it will seem.”
“Magic?” The emperor grew even paler.
“Of course, my lord, ’twas magic,” Jonah agreed. “It could be nothing else, and how clever of you to discern it so quickly.”
