Chapter 49
The early May sunshine streamed
through the few small white clouds that drifted idly in the deep
azure of the sky, bathing the green grass in the solar warmth. Crowds of people of all walks of life
thronged the field outside the Palace of Lorm.
The debris from the battle had long been cleared and much of the ruined
section had been repaired. In front of
the still damaged wall stood a high trellis woven with white roses and before
that an oaken altar inscribed with Druidic runes. On either side of the trellis were two
curtained passageways leading from doors in the Palace wall. Tolian peeked with some trepidation from
behind the curtain at the activities on the field. She watched as her father stood from the
large table he was seated behind and raised his hand. Everyone fell silent. Tolris was beaming with joy, though some
uncharacteristic nervousness was apparent in his voice as he spoke:
“People of Lorm, honored guests and
dignitaries. It is with the happiest of
hearts that I have invited you here today.
I dare say that no other monarchs have had such legendary guests to
their table, nor felt such pride as I feel at this occasion. I wish to welcome, the King and Queen of
Faerie, for they have traveled between the worlds to join us today. Hail and welcome to you both.”
Tolris bowed to them. Ymrisiva and her king nodded with supreme
grace.
“In their company, also, I should
point out the valiant Findelbres, who, in my mind, is one of the bravest
warriors to grace this field.”
Findelbres stood and bowed at the
boisterous cheers he received.
King Tolris continued, “I would like
to welcome those of the Druidic Order who have brought their good wishes to
this table. Greetings, priests and
priestesses of nature. Lastly, before we
begin the proceedings, I should like to point out the one person who should be
especially saluted; for without his efforts, we would all be dead, rather than
celebrating this joyous event. I give
you the hero of Keythion, Kiliordes.
Please stand up.”
A smile of gratitude touched Tolian’s
lips as the man who was Rwiordes stood up and took his bow to the deafening
cheers of the people of Lorm.
“It can truly be said,” said Tolris, “that
you and my son, er, my child are our saviors, and we shall not forget you. Kiliordes, as you now call yourself, I hereby
make you a Lord of Lorm. Nor shall I
ever forget that it was you who first brought me the news that Tolian lived. Thank you for everything.”
Kiliordes bowed humbly.
The King took a deep breath. “Now for the moment, we’ve been waiting
for. Magara, High Priestess of the
Druidic Order would you please begin.”
Magara arose from her seat and
stepped behind the altar.
“Thank you, your Majesty,” she said,
respectfully. “Please stand over to my
left. That’s it. Greetings, good people of Lorm. Today is a day of joy, though I admit an
unexpected one. We are gathered for a
special purpose, a ceremony I have conducted countless times for the men and
women of our order. I do believe that in
this case, we have a first. Are the
brides ready?”
The Lormian druidess was eight months
pregnant, but was not letting her condition dampen her enthusiasm.
Tolian pushed aside the curtain and
walked towards Magara. She was radiant
and she knew it. Her brown hair gleamed
with copper highlights in the sun beneath the crown of white flowers she
wore. Her diamond wedding gown gleamed
on her. The neckline plunged to just
below her breasts, revealing a great deal of cleavage. Tolian walked with her head held high. She walked as a woman proud of her femininity
and so she was. She had spent the
morning preparing. She had applied her own
make up and required only the slightest assistance from Myrthis with her hair. She looked at those seated at the king’s
table. Her uncle and cousin stared in
awe. Even Delorick seemed quite impressed with her
appearance, though his gaze slipped back to Myrthis. Tolian found some pleasure in the
peculiar looks she was getting from some of the young noble women she had
courted before her transformation.
Despite some of the shocked stares she received, Tolian had no doubts
that being female was right for her. She
was glad to be a woman, and she didn’t care what anyone thought about it.
She watched Brythia step from behind
the other curtain and walk towards Magara as well. Tolian’s heart raced. The druidess had never looked as beautiful as
she did coming toward her. Brythia’s
lacy-white gown was more demure than Tolian’s, but she was breathtaking in it.
She stared into her eyes as they neared each other, both wearing huge
smiles on their painted lips.
They stopped before the altar.
“The powers of the sun and rain are
great,” said Magara, “but they stand as nothing next to the power of love. Do you Brythia, Priestess of the Sun, truly
intend to wed this woman?”
“I do.”
“Do you Tolian, Child of Tolris,
truly intend to wed this woman?”
“I do.”
“We stand in the church of nature
almighty. Our hearts are true of
purpose. I do so say, if any here have
reason that these two children of love should not be married, speak now.”
A hush swept over the crowd. Tolian bit her lip. Magara waited, then sighed in relief.
“Hold hands. Let these two be bound by the bindings of
marriage, by the cords of love, in the holy union of love. I pronounce you wife and wife. So mote it be.”
Tolian took Brythia into her arms and
fastened her lips onto the druidess’.
The entire assemblage cheered as one.
Flowers petals rained down upon the two brides from everywhere.
King Tolris cleared his throat and
spoke. “There is just one more thing to say.
It has been assumed that succession of the crown of Lorm will go to
Tolian’s heir because of her transformation.
I would like to correct that misunderstanding. Let all here know that Tolian will be the
next King of Lorm.”
“Queen,” corrected Tolian.
The End
…The adventures of Tolian continue in Empress of Clouds…
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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