Kellen remembered wearing Mountainborn clothing. Shalkan had particularly hated the hat.
The Lostlanders did not organize into clans as the Mountainborn did; in the harsh northern land where they had lived until Atroist had brought them south, the Wildmages had been, not only their sole defense against the nearly-constant Demon raids, but the final authority in all matters. To this final ceremony they had sent Feyrt, their Belrix War King with his surviving council of Wildmages.
The Lostlanders stood with the Centaurs which made sense, since the Lostlanders intended to remain in the Wildlands and live among the Centaurs and the human farmers. Kellen recognized Kreylmedd, who had been warchief of all the centaurs in Redhelwar's camp. The grizzled old veteran had lost an arm in the fighting, and many new scars made white streaks across his chestnut hide, but he had survived. There were about a dozen Centaurs present, men and women both: some who had served in the army, some who were leaders of their home villages.
And, as Shalkan had warned him, there was a delegation of High Mages from Armethalieh, including not only the current Arch-Mage… But the former Arch-Mage. Lycaelon Tavadon.
His father.
Kellen did not know what he expected to feel when he gazed on his father's face again. Shock? Anger? Triumph? In fact, he felt nothing, not even relief that he felt nothing. Lycaelon looked terribly ravaged; his hair had gone quite white, and a young man in gray Mage-robes stayed beside him at all times to offer support.
The ceremony itself took place at the edge of the Flower Forest. It looked more vibrant than Kellen could remember ever having seen it. In fact, it looked… larger.
Yes, there was definitely new growth there at the edges. The Flower Forest was expanding. Another good sign that their victory had been decisive.
He had not yet spoken to Andoreniel, a lapse in manners he knew he'd have to take care of as soon as the ceremony was over. He had sent a message to the House of Leaf and Star yesterday, requesting to be excused from any active participation in the ceremony today.
He couldn't think of anything he wanted to say.
He was glad they were all alive. He was glad the Demons were gone. He knew he knew that Idalia's death was not too high a price to pay for that. He just couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.
* * * * *
ANDORENIEL had given his permission, of course, though naturally Kellen still had to attend. So now here Kellen stood, among all the other dignitaries, wearing elaborate robes of green and silver fortunately, Vertai had been there at his house this morning to help him dress, or he'd still be trying to figure out how to get into them standing beside Redhelwar, who was equally magnificent in red and gold.
One good thing about all this was that Lycaelon probably wouldn't even recognize him.
Beyond the ranks of those who had a formal place in the ceremony stood those who had come just to be there. Most of them were the citizens of Sentarshadeen all dressed in white but at the edges of the crowd, Kellen saw some distinctly human faces, and a few Centaurs as well. Probably there were even some Otherfolk here, if he took the care to look closely.
Everyone had loved Idalia.
He turned his attention to the table set just outside the Flower Forest. It stood upon a pure white carpet the first he had seen anywhere in the Elven Lands and the table was covered in a white drape. Upon the table stood a green glass lantern, similar to the ones the Elves hung outside their homes at night.
Andoreniel came and stood behind the table. He placed his hands upon the lantern, and suddenly it was lit somehow without magic, Kellen knew.
The people gathered in witness, already quiet, stilled even further.
"We have come to say our last farewell to Idalia Wildmage, Beloved of the Elves and of all, who stood between us and the Shadow, and through her will, her courage, and her grace, allowed the Light to prevail once more," Andoreniel said.
* * * * *
THERE was a brief ceremony, silently conducted by Andoreniel and Rochinuviel. It almost seemed like a dance. It reminded Kellen, just a little, of what Cilarnen had done with the unicorns outside the walls of Armethalieh, though he felt no magic in it, only a faint sense of peace. At the end of it, the two of them carried the lantern into the Flower Forest.
Is that it? Kellen wondered. But nobody seemed to be moving.
When they returned, a new air of expectancy suffused the gathering.
"Now let us recall her life," Andoreniel said.
* * * * *
KELLEN realized he had subconsciously been expecting something like this and dreading it. One by one, representatives from the gathered dignitaries advanced to the now-empty table to speak of Idalia, and what she had meant to them. Kearn was there he spoke of his long friendship with Idalia, of how she had always traded with him sharply but fairly.
An ancient Lostlander Wildmage a white-haired woman, quite blind spoke on behalf of Atroist, sharing his memories of Idalia. Atroist, Kellen discovered, had been her grandson.
Vestakia spoke, telling them all of the first time she had met Idalia, how Idalia had taken her into this very Flower Forest to discover whether her half-Demon heritage would be a threat to them. She spoke of Idalia's unfailing and unflinching kindness and friendship to her, from the first moment she had seen her.
Though Vestakia's appearance caused some consternation among those who had never seen her before, there was no fear. Everyone knew that the Demons were defeated and gone.
Others spoke, though briefly.
Cilarnen spoke, telling not only of the kindness he had received from Idalia, but of how much he had learned from her.
" for she was the first true Wildmage I had ever known. I am a High Mage of Armethalieh, a Master of the Art of High Magick. All my life I had been raised to think of the Wild Magic as something little different than the Darkmagery itself, and Wildmages as little better than Demonspawn. Idalia did not even bother to tell me it wasn't so. She simply showed me it wasn't, by everything she was and did."
And then, to Kellen's vast and unsettled surprise, Lycaelon Tavadon came forward to speak. The young gray-robed Mage by his side assisted him to the table; when he stepped away, Lycaelon leaned upon it heavily.
"Idalia was my daughter. But I do not come today to praise her as a daughter. I never valued her as a daughter, and never knew her. For her entire life every hour and day of it I was her unswerving enemy, and when I discovered that she still lived, I sought her death with all the power at my command. But she… transcended all that she had been as a child of the City. All that she might have been as my daughter. She died, not as an Armethaliehan, but as a hero to all the land. And it is for that which I praise her to you here today."
He bowed his head, and the young Mage came to help him away.
No more speakers came forward. The ceremony was finally over.
It had been a moving and honest speech, and Kellen was mildly surprised that Lycaelon had made it though he was actually more surprised that Lycaelon had made the journey all the way here to the Elven Lands at all.
Did it make a difference to his feelings about his father?
Kellen wondered.
No. It had been something of a shock to see his father here today, but, seeing him again, Kellen realized that all feelings for the man who had given him life whether they were feelings of hatred or love were simply gone. Lycaelon had never given him a chance to love him, and all hatred had been burned away by the intense self-knowledge required of a Knight-Mage.
If Lycaelon had not been who he was, Kellen would not have become who he was.
And if Kellen had not been who he was, the Demons would have won.
All went as the Wild Magic willed and as Idalia had told him once, the Wild Magic wasn't a tame magic, and its workings weren't always comfortable. In a way, it had needed Kellen and Idalia, so it had created them, by sending their mother Alance to Armethalieh in the first place.
He could live with that.
They truly had sent Idalia to rest, Kellen realized suddenly. For the first time since he had seen her body at the Standing Stones, he felt at peace. The ache of her loss was still there and would be with him for a long time to come, he knew but it no longer felt like a wound that would never heal.
Suddenly he felt a sense of Presence. "When the time comes, you must… let go."
In the Caverns at Halacira, a Price had been asked and granted. He had thought it would be a heavy one, as so many of the Prices of the Wild Magic were.
Now, here, today, he realized that paying it would free him, not burden him.